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PRISON LIFE IN ANDERSON VILLE" 




The Beloved Teacher in After Years. 



1/ 

"Prison Life in Andersonville " 

With Special Reference to the 
Opening: of Providence Spring 



by 
John L. Maile 



A Veteran of Company F, Eighth Regiment Michigan 
Volunteer Infantry and afterward assigned as Lieutenant in 
the Twenty-eighth U. S. C. T., and for a time an unwilling 
guest in the Confederate Military prisons at Lynchburg and 
Danville, Va., Andersonville, Ga., Florence, S. C, and Sal- 
isbury, N. C. 



One flag, one land, one heart, one hand, 
One Nation evermore." 

— O. W. Holmes. 



GRAFTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 

WEST COAST MAGAZINE 
LOS ANGELES. 





F&/Z 




■ At 




& 


Copyright 1912 




BY 




John l. maile 




os Angeles. Cal. 


u. s. A. 





All Rights Reserved 



PRESS OF WEST COAST MAGAZINE 
LOS ANGELES. CALIFORNIA 



gCU31222I /) 

It 






Commendation 

That the following narrative of Southern 
prison life should be written so many years 
after the occurrence of the events described 
is explained by the fact that the author has 
been urged by many friends to put on record 
his descriptions that have interested many 
people in the East, in the Interior and in the 
West. 

To Members of the Grand Army of the Re- 
public, of the Woman's Relief Corps, allied 
organizations, and readers generally, I am glad 
to commend this book as giving a more partic- 
ular account of the opening of Providence 
Spring than has before appeared. 

Appreciation of the strenuous days of the 
great Civil War will be revived, and the mem- 
ories of Veterans, not a few will be refreshed 
by this interesting story. 




Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of 
the Republic. 

Princeton, Illinois, 
March 2, 1912. 



I 



Four years of war life. 
In five Confederate prisons. 




The Author in 

1860. 

The Year Before Enlistment. 



DEDICATION 

Dedicated to the Woman's Relief Corps, whose ten- 
der, thoughtful care has preserved the 
sacred memorials of the war, and 
to the memory of my 

COMRADES 

in arms 
who have an- 
swerer the final 
call; to the age- worn 
remnant who still linger 
behind, and to the younger 
patriots of the present generation, 
to whom it is given, in the happier 
days of peace, to fight for their country 
the bloodless battles of righteousness and truth. 



TABLE of CONTENTS 

Chapter. 

I. The Writer's Credentials . 

II. View of a Confederate Prison 

III. The Prison Commisariat 

IV. A Dearth of Water . 
V. A Cry to Heaven . . 

VI. Unsealing of the Spring 

VII. Was It a Miracle ? . . 

VIII. Deliverance .... 

IX. An Incident by the Way 

X. A Sequel 



Appendix. 



Page. 
19 

27 

35 
53 
61 
65 
72 
85 
93 
103 



Page. 
. 116 



A. Contributory Testimony . . . 

B. Responsibility for Prison Treatment 119 

C. Woman's Relief Corps Memorial . 123 

D. A Memorial Day Meditation . . .135 

Rev. H. H. Proctor, D. D. 
of Atlanta. 

E. Permanent Honors for Confederate 

Heroes 141 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Author : As Prospective Soldier. 

As Present Writer. 
Plan of the Prison Pen. 
View of Interior and Foreground. 
A Dream. 

The Broken Stockade. 

The Spring and Women of the Relief Corps. 
Adventure in Wilmington Hospital. 
The Beloved Teacher. 

The Michigan Monument in Anderson ville. 
The Andersonville Cemetery. 



A Personal Foreword 

The establishment and perpetuity of 
our Union have been secured by the 
sacrifices of war. The Declaration of 
Independence preceded seven weary 
years of conflict, whose culminat- 
ing sufferings were experienced in 
the British prison ships and in the win- 
ter camp at Valley Forge. In this con- 
test the patriotic soldiers of the north 
and of the south made common cause, 
and what they did and what they suf- 
fered indicates a measure of the endur- 
ing worth of our national life. The 
story of revolutionary days finds an 
enlarged counterpart in the sufferings 
of the civil war. 

A phase of the great struggle is 
recalled in the following narrative of 
events, which belongs to a rapidly reced- 
ing past. Soon no survivor will be left 
to tell the tale ; hence the desirability of 
putting it into permanent form before 



it fades altogether from recollection. 
To some the story of the breaking out of 
Providence Spring may seem to have 
been given undue prominence in this 
record ; but it is around that event that 
these reminiscences gather, and the cir- 
cumstances attending were so indel- 
ibly stamped upon the memory of the 
writer that they call for expression. 
Probably he was the youngest of the 
group of Andersonville prisoners who 
participated in the concert of prayer 
that preceded the unsealing of the foun- 
tain, and on that account he may be the 
only survivor. 

In the course of the narrative un- 
pleasant things have been referred to 
in the interests of truth, but nothing has 
been set down in malice. The Great 
Healer has closed up many wounds of 
hearts as well as of bodies, and the grass 
has grown green over the graves of 
buried controversies. The boys in gray 
and the boys in blue now fraternize 
around common campfires and under a 
common flag. But while the writer has 
none save the kindliest feelings toward 
his brothers of the lost cause, he cannot 



help rejoicing that alike in the clash 
of arms, and in the more peaceful con- 
flict of ideas which has followed, the 
principles for which he and others bled 
and suffered have gained the victory 
and are among the things which never 
perish from the earth. 



''We are coming. Father Abraham — three hun- 
dred thousand more, 

From Mississippi's winding stream and from 
New England's shore. 

We leave our plows and workshops, our wives 
and children dear. 

With hearts too full for utterance, with but a 
silent tear; 

We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly 
before — 

We are coming, Father Abraham — three hun- 
dred thousand more. 

"If you look across the hilltops that meet the 
northern sky, 

Long lines of moving dust your vision may 
descry ; 

And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy 
veil aside, 

And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and 
in pride; 

And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands 
brave music pour — 

We are coming, Father Abraham, three hun- 
dred thousand more. 

"If you look up all our valleys, where growing 
harvests shine, 

You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast form- 
ing into line ; 

And children, from their mothers' knees, are 
pulling at the weeds, 

And learning how to reap and sow, against 
their country's needs; 

A farewell group stands weeping at every cot- 
tage door — 

We are coming, Father Abraham — three hun- 
dred thousand more." 



CHAPTER I. 

THE WRITER'S CREDENTIALS. 

The writer of the following narrative 
feels justified in calling attention to his 
military record in order that he may be 
furnished with a warrant for inviting 
the attention of readers to the matters 
herein described, Broadly speaking, his 
record is that he saw nearly four years 
of active service, including ten months 
of confinement in Confederate prisons 
and three months in hospitals and 
parole camps. 

Given more in detail it would be as 
follows: He enlisted at the age of 
seventeen, on September 2, 1861, at 
Hastings in the Eighth Regiment Mich- 
igan Volunteer Infantry; Company F 
of which 1ST. H. Walbridge was Captain ; 
Traverse Phillips, First Lieutenant ; 
Jacob Maus, Second Lieutenant, and 
John D. Sumner, Orderly Sergeant. 

19 



20 Prison Life in Andersonville 

The Eighth was known as the famous 
"wandering" regiment of Michigan — 
ex-Governor Col. William M. Fenton, 
Commander. 

His regiment was mustered in at 
Grand Rapids and journeyed via De- 
troit, Cleveland and Pittsburg to Wash- 
ington, going into camp on Meridian 
Hill overlooking the capitol. On Octo- 
ber 19th, with his regiment, he em- 
barked from Annapolis on the steam- 
ship Vanderbilt, taking part in the 
Dupont Expedition to the South Caro- 
lina coast and occupancy of Beaufort 
and the Sea Islands. 

He was in engagements on Coosaw 
river, and at the bombardment of Fort 
Paluski off Savannah. While his regi- 
ment was in the campaign of James 
Island, near Charleston, he was in the 
Signal Corps service on the Beaufort 
river. In April the regiment sailed to 
Virginia ; he was at the second Bull-Run 
in July, and with the Maryland cam- 
paign of South Mountain, Antietam; 
the succeeding Fredericksburg fighting 



The Writer's Credentials 21 

and thence via Kentucky to Vicksburg 
and Jackson, Mississippi. 

In the autumn of '63 he marched via 
Cumberland Gap to East Tennessee and 
took part in conflicts at Blue Springs, 
Lenoir Station, Campbell's Station, the 
siege of Knoxville, and defense of Fort 
Saunders. After re-enlistment with his 
comrades in January he marched over 
the mountains nearly two hundred miles 
in ten days through deep snow to the 
railroad at Crab Orchard, Kentucky. 
This severe ordeal was followed by a 
brief respite of a thirty days' furlough 
from Cincinnati to Michigan. 

In April, 1864, the regiment rejoined 
the Ninth Army Corps at Annapolis, 
and on May 3rd he was, after examina- 
tion in Washington, confirmed for a 
commission as Lieutenant. On the 4th, 
he overtook his regiment camping near 
the Rappahannock river ; on the evening 
of the 5th the vicinity of the Rapidan 
river was reached in full view of the 
smoke of Sedgwick's artillery opening 
the great battle of the Wilderness. On 
the afternoon of the 6th, his regiment 



22 Prison Life in Andersonville 

was ordered into action when he with a 
thousand others from the division was 
taken prisoner and marched to Lee's 
headquarters, where he saw the famous 
general, whom he remembers as sitting 
with great dignity of bearing upon his 
horse, calmly viewing the situation. 
And it was reported that he kindly re- 
marked to a group of prisoners that 
they must make the best of their pre- 
dicament. On the 9th the examination 
papers came for the new Lieutenant, 
but he was now the guest of the Con- 
federacy and could not be excused. 

A comrade sent to his home the dis- 
quieting message, "missing in action 
and probably killed," but happily from 
Orange Courthouse by the great kind- 
ness of a Virginia Lieutenant a tele- 
gram was forwarded by flag of truce to 
his parents stating that he still survived. 
The memorial services announced for 
the following week were postponed and 
are yet to take place. 

Introductory experiences as a pris- 
oner of war included many hours of 
fasting, followed by a most exhaustive 



The Writer's Credentials 23 

march of twenty-eight miles to Orange 
Courthouse under close cavalry guard; 
thence by rail to Gordonsville, where 
the place of detention was a pen fre- 
quently used for the rounding up of 
cattle. At this point the prisoners were 
usually relieved of any superfluous 
clothing and outfit. 

Fortunately the writer had discov- 
ered in the crowd five members of his 
regiment. He and they drew together 
as companions in misfortune, and 
formed a group in which each one was 
to have a share and share alike of all 
they possessed ; and they entered into a 
solemn pledge to care for one another 
in sickness. 

Very early in the morning of our 
night at Gordonville we w T ere aroused by 
the sharp command, "Wake up there, 
wake up there, you Yanks. Pall into 
two ranks. Quick there,' ' given by a 
Confederate sergeant. The occasion 
was the arrival of a trainload of beef 
cattle for the Confederate army, and 
the master of transportation saw an op- 
portunity to load the prisoners into the 



24 Prison Life in Andersonville 

freight cars just made vacant and which 
were to return to Lynchburg immedi- 
ately. 

To be thus unceremoniously aroused 
from sleep and hustled into filthy cars 
made us very indignant, but " There is 
a divinity that shapes our ends ; rough- 
hew them how we will, ' ' and in the con- 
fusion of moving in the twilight, and 
the absence of inspection we got off scot 
free from the usual ceremony of being 
stripped of superabundant clothes and 
accouterments. Thus our group of six 
were each left in possession of a blan- 
ket, a section of shelter tent, a haver- 
sack,, a tin cup and plate, a knife, a 
fork, a spoon, and such scanty clothing 
as we had on. The extras we possessed 
were a frying pan, a file, and several 
pocket knives, two or three towels, a 
small mirror, and a thin piece of mot- 
tled soap. The latter was used exclu- 
sively for a Sunday morning wash of 
hands and face until it melted away. 

This unusual amount of equipment 
was kept as inconspicuous as possible 
and was safely carried through the pris- 



The Writer's Credentials 25 

ons at Lynchburg and Danville, where 
we awaited transportation to an un- 
known destination, which proved to be 
the military inferno of Andersonville, 
in southwestern Georgia, to reach which 
we rode more than seven hundred miles 
from the battlefield packed fifty and 
sixty in a freight car, with twenty or 
thirty of our number on the top. 

The locomotives, which burned pitch 
pine, emitted clouds of acrid smoke that, 
mingled with dust arising from the 
roadbed, enveloped the train in a 
gloomy, suffocating pall. Mile after 
mile the worn, rattling freight cars and 
wheezing engine crept along the right- 
of-way, which, as a narrow lane, thread- 
ed the interminable pitch-pine forests 
that admitted no stirring breeze. 

On Sunday morning we arrived in the 
beautiful city of Augusta, Georgia. 
Our train was sidetracked on a princi- 
pal thoroughfare whose borders were 
embowered in luxuriant foliage which 
screened attractive homes, whence the 
church bells were calling the summer- 
dressed occupants. On the sidewalk 



26 Prison Life in Andersonville 

opposite from the train groups of the 
people loitered to gaze upon the grimy, 
famished prisoners who swarmed upon 
the tops of the freight cars and formed 
a sweltering crowd within. 

Several ladies deferred their church- 
going, re-entered their houses, emerged 
with baskets filled with sandwiches, 
crossed the street to the side of the train 
and, overcoming the objections of the 
guards, handed out the precious food 
to the grateful men, who responded 
with their most courteous thanks. 

This little piece of genuine chivalry 
was the one bright spot in the torturing 
journey, and was matched by the sensi- 
bilities of some Southern ladies, who 
later viewing the interior of Anderson- 
ville from the stockade platform, turned 
away their faces weeping. 




Ground Plan of Andersonville Stockade. 



Description: Fig. 1, Keeper's House; 2, "P. Spring"; 3,. Nat'l 
Monument; 4, Purchased Property; 5, Stockade; 6, Outer Stockade; 
7, Deadline; 8, Forts and Batteries; 9, Main Fort; 10, -Gallows; 
11, Magazine; 12, Capt. Wirtz' Headquarters; 13, To Cemetery; 
14, Wells and Tunnels; 15, Dead House; 16, Guard Camp; 17, Road 
to Station; 18, Creek; 19, North Gate; 20, South Gate; 21, Flag 
Pole. 

^Toward the close of the war great bounties were paid for re- 
cruits in northern cities. Many desperate characters enlisted for 
this money, intending to desert at the first opportunity. The vigi- 
lence of Genl. Grant forced them into battle. Many were captured 
and landed in Andersonville. Here they conspired to rob and mur- 
der fellow prisoners. Capt. Wirtz convened a trial court composed 
of prisoners who observed all the forms of law in the trial of these 
desperadoes. Six of them were found guilty of murder and were 
hung. 



CHAPTER II. 

AN INSIDE VIEW OF A CONFEDERATE PRISON. 

At the time of our incarceration in 
Andersonville, the crisis of the war of 
the rebellion was reached. General 
Grant was fighting the great battles of 
the Wilderness in Virginia ; the invest- 
ment of Petersburg was about to begin, 
and General Lee was resisting the im- 
pact of the Federal forces with unsur- 
passed skill and heroism. General 
Sherman was also hastening his prepa- 
rations to penetrate the vitals of the 
Confederacy by his famous " March to 
the Sea." 

Skirmishes by the contending forces 
were of daily occurrence, and frequent- 
ly battles were fought that now loom 
large in history. To bury the dead was 
not difficult ; but the care of the wound- 
ed was a grave concern to both armies. 
An affair of still greater magnitude was 
the gathering up of the captured officers 

21 



28 Prison Life in Andersonville 

and soldiers, the transporting of them 
hundreds of miles, and the placing of 
them in prisons for safe keeping. 

The Confederate authorities adopted 
a simple and logical plan. Foodstuffs 
for their armies could not be gathered 
in war-swept Virginia, nor to any 
great extent from the border States. In 
Georgia and Alabama, in parts of the 
Carolinas, Mississippi and Louisiana 
faithful slave labor produced an abun- 
dant supply of rice, corn and bacon, 
sweet potatoes and beans. 

To transport these bulky materials to 
the armies of Lee, Hood and Johnson 
required every locomotive and freight 
car that could be mustered on Southern 
railroads. Hence the northward-bound 
trains were heavily laden. Those going 
southward were empty, and were avail- 
able to carry away the thousands of 
Union prisoners. At several points in 
the South Atlantic and Gulf States, 
stockade prisons were set up, notably 
that in Southwestern Georgia, named 
after an adjacent hamlet, " Anderson- 
ville.' ' 



View of a Confederate Prison 29 

This celebrated place of confinement 
for Federal prisoners below the rank of 
commissioned officer was located about 
sixty-two miles from Macon. It con- 
sisted of a stockade made of pine logs 
twenty-five feet long, set upright in a 
trench five feet deep, inclosing some six- 
teen acres, afterwards enlarged to 
twenty-six acres. 

This inclosure was oblong in form, 
with its longest dimension in a general 
north and south direction, and had two 
gates in its western side, near the north 
and south ends respectively. It was 
commanded by several stands of artil- 
lery, comprising sixteen guns, located 
at a distance on rising ground. From 
four directions the guns could sweep the 
prison interior with grapeshot or shells. 

A line of poles was planted along the 
lengthwise center of the pen. We were 
informed that if the men gathered in 
unusual crowds between the range of 
the poles and the north and south gates, 
the cannon would open upon us. 

A report was circulated among us to 
the effect that General Sherman had 



30 Prison Life in Andersonville 

started an expedition to release us ; and 
we were informed that if his troops ap- 
proached within seven miles of the 
stockade the prisoners would be mowed 
down by grapeshot. The fact is that one 
of his generals proposed a sortie that 
never was made. " About July 20, 1864, 
General Stoneman was authorized at his 
own desire to march (with cavalry) on 
Macon and Andersonville in an effort 
to rescue the National prisoners of war 
in the military prisons there." 

Outside and against the stockade 
platforms for guards were placed two 
or three rods apart, and were so con- 
structed that the sentinel climbed a lad- 
der and stood waist high above the top 
of the wall and under a board roof, 
which sheltered him from the sun and 
rain. 

Each of the guards faced the vast 
mass of prisoners and was ordered to 
closely watch the dead line before and 
below him half way to his comrade on 
his right and left. 

The "dead line" formed a complete 
circuit parallel to the inside of the 



View of a Confederate Prison 31 

stockade and about twenty feet there- 
from. It consisted of a narrow strip of 
board nailed to a row of stakes, which 
were about four feet high. " Shoot any 
prisoner who touches the "dead line" 
was the standing order to the guards. 
Several companies from Georgia regi- 
ments were detailed for the duty, and 
their muskets were loaded with "buck 
and ball" (i. e., a large bullet and two 
buckshot). The day guard at the stock- 
ade consisted of one hundred and 
eighty-six men; the day reserve of 
eighty-six men. The night reserve con- 
sisted of one hundred and ten men ; the 
outlay pickets of thirty-eight men. 

A sick prisoner inadvertently placing 
his hand on the dead line for support, or 
one who was "moon blind" running 
against it, or anyone touching it with 
suicidal intent, would be instantly shot 
at, the scattering balls usually striking 
others than the one aimed at. 

The intervening space between the 
wall and the dead line was overgrown 
with weeds, and was occasionally tested 
by workmen with long drills to ascertain 



32 Prison Life in Anders onville 

the existence of tunnels. In attempting 
to escape by this means the prisoners 
endeavored to emerge at night some dis- 
tance from the stockade and take to the 
woods. To frustrate such attempts, 
which would inevitably be discovered at 
roll-call the following morning, man- 
tracking hounds were led by mounted 
men on a wide circuit around the prison, 
with the well-nigh universal result that 
the trail was struck and the fugitive 
taken. 

Later a stockade was erected parallel 
to the first, and some ten or twelve rods 
beyond. Tunnels could not be carried 
so far with the means available. They 
were dug with knives and the dirt was 
taken out in haversacks or bags drawn 
in and out by a cord. The work of dig- 
ging was usually carried on at night. 
During the day a sick man lay over the 
tunnel's mouth in a tent or under a 
blanket. That the roll-call sergeant 
might not discover the fresh earth, it 
was sifted early in the morning from 
the pocket and down the trouser leg of 
a comrade, who walked unconcernedly 



View of a Confederate Prison 33 

about. The little grains of earth which 
he dropped were soon trodden under 
foot. 

To increase the difficulty of tunnel 
escape, slaves and teams were employed 
to build piles of pitch-pine along the 
cleared space beyond the outer stockade. 
At night, when these were lighted, a line 
of fires was made which illuminated a 
wide area. From these fires arose col- 
umns of dense smoke, which in the sul- 
try air of a midsummer night hung like 
a pall over the silent city of disease and 
starvation. Yet the city was not wholly 
quiet, for undertones of thousands of 
voices that murmured during the day at 
night died away into the low moans of 
the sick and the expiring, or rose into 
the overtones of the outcry of distress- 
ful dreams. In the edge of the gloom 
beyond the fires, patrols paced to and 
fro until the dawn. Every evening the 
watch-call sounded, "Post number one, 
nine o 'clock and all is well. ' ' This cry 
was repeated by each sentinel until it 
had traveled around the stockade back 
to the place of starting. "Nine and a 



34 Prison Life in Anders onville 

half o'clock and all is well," was next 
spoken, and likewise repeated. Thus 
every half hour from dark to daylight 
the time was called off, and this grim 
challenge greeted our ears every night 
until the survivors bade the Confeder- 
acy good-bye. Not that our captors 
benevolently wished to increase the 
sense of the shortness of the time until 
our release, but to be assured that the 
guards were keeping awake. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE PRISON COMMISSARIAT. 

The least that can be said of the 
prison sustenance is that it was exceed- 
ingly slim. But while the per diem ra- 
tions dealt out to an Andersonville 
prisoner were too small for proper 
maintenance, and much of the time in- 
ferior in quality, yet the thirty-two 
thousand to thirty-five thousand men 
who had to be fed were as a rule prompt- 
ly served. 

To secure this result effective organi- 
zation was necessary. It was accom- 
plished as follows : Groups of two hun- 
dred and seventy men were named de- 
tachments and duly numbered. Every 
detachment was divided into the first, 
second and third nineties, each of which 
was in charge of one of our own ser- 
geants. The nineties, in turn, were di- 
vided into the first, second and third 

35 



36 Prison Life in Anders onville 

thirties, which also were in charge of a 
sergeant or corporal. 

At ten o 'clock every forenoon a drum 
call was beaten from the platform at the 
south gate. At this signal the prisoners 
fell into line by detachments, forming 
as best they could in the narrow paths 
that separated the small tents, blanket 
shanties or dug-outs. At the same mo- 
ment a company of Confederate ser- 
geants entered the two gates for the 
purpose of counting and recording the 
number of the prisoners. To each of 
these officers a certain number of de- 
tachments were assigned. The men, un- 
sheltered from the fierce sun-heat, had 
perforce to remain standing during the 
entire count. If a number less than that 
of yesterday was in evidence, the Fed- 
eral sergeant had to account for the defi- 
cit. Sometimes a number of men were 
too ill to stand up, so the line was held 
the longer while the Confederate official 
viewed the sick where they lay. 

The bodies of those who had died 
since the count of the previous day were 
early in the morning carried to the 






The Prison Commissariat 37 

south street and laid in a row until the 
ration wagon could haul them to the 
burying trench. On a card attached to 
the wrist of the deceased was written by 
the detachment sergeant, his name, 
regiment and date of death. These 
names were taken by the enumerator, 
who verified the record as the bodies 
were carried through the gate. Such 
was the scarcity of clothing that gar- 
ments of any value were taken by com- 
rades from the dead before interment. 

In the early summer prisoners were 
occasionally detailed under guard to 
carry the dead some distance from the 
gate. On the return they were allowed 
to gather up chips which had accumu- 
lated from the hewing of stockade tim- 
bers. The quantity a man, weakened by 
hunger and disease, could bring in 
would sell for five dollars, U. S. cur- 
rency. Competition to get out on one of 
these details became so intense that the 
privilege was discontinued. 

At four o'clock in the afternoon 
rations of corn bread and bacon were 
issued on the basis of the morning count 



38 Prison Life in Anders onville 

of those who are able to stand up. Two 
army wagons drawn by mules entered 
the north and south gates simultaneous- 
ly. They were piled high with bread, 
thin loaves of corn bread or Johnny 
cake, made of coarse meal and water by 
our men who had been paroled for that 
work. 

A blanket was spread upon the ground 
and the quantity for a detachment was 
placed thereon in three piles; one for 
every ninety, according to the number 
of men able to eat. In like manner the 
sergeants of nineties sub-divided the 
piles to the thirties. 

The writer had charge of a division 
of thirty and distributed as follows: 
His blanket was spread in front of his 
shelter tent and on it he spread the 
bread in as many pieces as there were 
men counted in the morning. 

Each man had his number and was 
intently watching the comparative size 
of the portions. " Sergeant," cries one, 
pointing to a cube of bread, "That piece 
is smaller than the one next to it." A 
crumb is taken from the one and placed 



The Prison Commissariat 39 

upon the other. The relative size of any 
piece may be challenged by any member 
of the thirty, for his life is involved. 

The equalization is finally completed 
to the satisfaction of all. The sergeant 
then takes up a piece in his hand and 
says, "Whose is this?" A designated 
comrade looking the other way calls a 
number. The owner steps up and takes 
his portion. This process is repeated 
until all are served. Some four or five 
pounds of bacon are then cut on a board 
into small pieces and issued in like 
manner. 

The cube of bread and morsel of meat 
constitute the ration for twenty-four 
hours. One-half may be eaten at once ; 
the remainder should be put in the hav- 
ersack for breakfast. If any one yields 
to his insatiable hunger and eats the 
whole for supper he has to fast until the 
following evening and must then deny 
himself and put away the portion for 
the next morning's breakfast. Experi- 
ment proved that strength was better 
sustained by taking the scanty ration of 



40 Prison Life in Andersonville 

food in two portions than by eating the 
whole at once. 

When the number of prisoners ex- 
ceeded fifteen thousand, the facilities of 
the cook-house were inadequate. There- 
fore raw rations were issued alternate- 
ly every two weeks to each side of the 
prison. In this form the amount per 
capita daily was a scant pint of corn 
meal and a scrap of uncooked bacon. 

Occasionally boiled rice and cow 
beans were substituted for the meal, but 
these were very difficult to issue in accu- 
rate portions. Sometimes a quantity of 
this glutenous food was carried in a 
sleeve of a shirt or in the trouser's leg 
tied at the end. 

The supply of fuel for cooking was 
wholly inadequate. Often the ration of 
wood was ironically called a " tooth- 
pick." It would be split into small 
short splinters and two men would 
sometimes combine their portions. 
Water in a quart tin cup setting on 
small blocks of clay could be brought 
to a boil before the wood under it was 
consumed. Into this water meal was 



The Prison Commissariat 41 

stirred and, if the blaze could be yet fur- 
ther economized, partially cooked mush 
was the outcome. The sick could not, 
however, do this work for themselves. 
Many ate meal uncooked, but the ex- 
periment soon ended life. 

It may be observed that many of the 
Andersonville prisoners were well sup- 
plied with money. The Federal armies 
were reclothed and paid off in the spring 
of 1864. The new recruits and re-en- 
listed veterans, in many instances, had 
with them bounty money when cap- 
tured. Greenbacks could be pressed 
into the sole of a shoe, or placed inside 
a brass button. In various ways money 
was concealed about the person. 

The authorities at Andersonville al- 
lowed supplies to be sold to the pris- 
oners for Federal money. Numerous 
small restaurants flourished in the 
stockade. From small clay ovens they 
supplied fresh bread and baked meats. 
Irish and sweet potatoes, string beans, 
peas, tomatoes, melons, sweet corn, and 
other garden products were abundantly 
offered for sale. New arrivals were 



42 Prison Life in Andersonville 

amazed to find these resources in the 
midst of utter destitution and starva- 
tion. 

As this sketch is of the nature of per- 
sonal experiences, the writer might tell 
how, in his case, the question of increas- 
ing the food supply was solved. A ra- 
tion of fresh beef received by his thirty 
consisted of a shank bone on which a 
small amount of lean meat remained. 
This latter was cut into portions about 
the size of a little finger. These were 
easily issued, but what shall be done 
with the bone which towered on the 
meat board above the diminutive strips 
of beef? No tools were available by 
which it could be broken up. One and 
another cried out, "I don't want the 
bone for a ration." " Count it out for 
me." "I can't gnaw a bone." The 
writer knew that a wealth of nutriment 
was contained in the rich marrow and 
oil—filled joints, and in view of the 
unanimous rejection of the bone, said, 
"Well, boys, if none of you want it, I 
will take it as my portion. " " Agreed, ' ' 
shouted the crowd, adding expressions 



The Prison Commissariat 43 

like these, "Come, hurry up and call off 
that meat; I'm hungry. The strips 
were speedily issued, and, for the most 
part, eaten at once. 

The fortunate possessor of what was 
a large soup bone borrowed from a com- 
rade a kitchen knife with permission to 
cut on the back of the same teeth, which 
were made with a file procured from a 
tent-mate. The steel of the blade was 
exceedingly hard and by the time the 
teeth were finished the file was worn 
nearly smooth. However, this fact in- 
sured that the teeth would hold their 
edge. The bone was quickly cut in two 
and the marrow dug out with a splinter. 
What remained was melted out with 
boiling water and a marrow soup was 
prepared for six hungry patriots. Next, 
the joints were sawed into slices and the 
rich oil extracted therefrom with hot 
water. Thus for two meals a generous 
addition was made to our impoverished 
menu. 

Soon after, while splitting wood by 
driving the knife into the end of a stick, 
the blade was snapped off about one 



44 Prison Life in Andersonville 

and one-half inches from the handle. 
This disaster brought consternation, for 
the owner valued his knife at five dol- 
lars. However, a settlement was effected 
by which the user retained the broken 
parts and the worn-out file. The blade 
was set into a split stick to be used as a 
saw, as circumstances might require. 

The broken end of the shank was 
scraped on a brick to form a beveled 
edge like a chisel. Later on, the fact 
was demonstrated that these tools were 
a providential preparation. The face of 
the writer became diseased with the 
much prevailing scurvy. A swollen 
cheek, inflamed and bleeding gums with 
loosening teeth, indicated the fact that 
a hard fight for life must be put up. 
How 7 shall it be done ? About this time 
a stockade was built on three sides of an 
enclosure attached to the north end of 
the prison, thus making more room for 
the thousands of additional prisoners 
who were constantly arriving from 
many battle fields. The intervening 
wall w T as taken up and most of the tim- 
ber sold to the prisoners. From one 



The Prison Commissariat 45 

who had purchased a log, the writer ob- 
tained the wood sufficient to make three 
water pails; working on a two-thirds 
share. 

This material was delivered to the 
writer in split strips about three inches 
thick and four feet long. With the 
knife-blade saw these sticks of hard pine 
were slowly and laboriously cut into 
lengths for staves which were split on a 
curve by driving together several sharp- 
pointed wedges into a circular grain of 
the wood. Thus each stave was an arc of 
the circumference of the tree. A day's 
ration was traded for a board three 
inches wide and thirty inches long. A 
mortise was cut through this to receive 
the knife-chisel, which was held in place 
with a forked wedge after the manner 
of a carpenter's plane. 

This was the jointer on which the 
edges of the staves were smoothed and 
its upper end was placed on the knee 
of the writer, who sat tailor fashion on 
the ground, and the lower end was placed 
in a hole in the earth. The pieces for 
the bottom of the pail were split flat 



46 Prison Life in Andersonville 

across the circular grain of the tree, and 
the edges were also smoothed on the 
jointer. For the want of truss hoops, 
the problem of setting up the staves 
seemed insurmountable. A sleepless 
night was passed in thinking the mat- 
ter through. At four o 'clock in the 
morning the inspiration came, and the 
solution was : Dig a hole in the ground 
the form and slope of the prospective 
pail. This was speedily done, and the 
staves were successfully set half their 
length in this mold, and the last one 
driven home brought the whole into 
shape. Two knapsack straps were 
passed around the top of the pail and 
held it together. It was then carefully 
drawn out of the hole and hoops made 
of split saplings were put in place, and 
the handle of like material was made. 
Precious food was bartered for these 
split stems, and the resultant fasting 
added to prevailing starvation nearly 
cost the writer his life. 

Pieces for the bottom were jointed, 
placed on the ground and on them the 
pail was set. A pencil was run round 



The Prison Commissariat 47 

on this bottom and the end of each piece 
was cut with saw and chisel wherever 
the curved mark indicated. 

Days of incessant labor with chisel 
and a borrowed jackknife sufficed 
to produce from hard pitch pine the 
staves for the sides and bottom of a 
water pail of the ordinary size. 

When at last the pail was completed 
so imperfect were the joints that meal 
could be sifted through. Derisive laugh- 
ter greeted the apparent failure of a pail 
to hold water, through the joints of 
which the light freely shone. How- 
ever, the maker depended on the dry 
wood of the staves swelling tight if only 
the hoops proved strong enough to 
stand the immense pressure. Happily, 
this resulted and in triumph the first 
made pail was handed over to the owner 
of the log in payment for the wood 
from which three pails could be made. 

The second pail was more speedily 
made and sold for $1.50 with which 
the proprietor bought vegetables which 
eaten raw cured the scurvy in his face. 

During the following winter which 



48 Prison Life in Andersonville 

was passed in the Confederate prison 
at Florence, South Carolina, the shoes 
worn by the most of our group, owing 
to defective machine stitching, peeled 
from the toe to the heel, causing almost 
constantly damp feet, to the serious 
detriment of health. 

Again the writer was obliged to make 
a fight for life. Recalling the process 
of making his chisel, he scraped, on a 
brick, the shank of his worn-out file into 
a point like a pegging awl. A gum tree 
knot served as a handle. A two-inch nut 
from a car bolt was screwed to a handle 
for a shoe hammer. A piece of soft 
pine was whittled into a last. With the 
knife-saw maple chips were cut into 
right lengths for shoe pegs which were 
shaped one by one. With this equip- 
ment the loosened soles were tightly 
pegged to the uppers. The shoes thus 
made water tight contributed no little 
to our chances of survival. 

The writer afterwards mended shoes 
for one of the wood-chopping party who 
secured, of field negroes, sweet potatoes 
which he brought with the working 



The Prison Commissariat 49 

squad into the prison at evening, and 
with them paid for the mending. These 
were cooked by the writer and retailed 
to the prisoners with large profit in U. 
S. fractional currency. 

Confederate money was secretly pur- 
chased forty dollars for one, and with 
this supplies could be lawfully bought 
of the prison sutler. Bread per small 
loaf, flour per pound, and a fair-sized 
cabbage could be bought each for ten 
dollars. We drove a flourishing trade 
in hot cabbage soup with men who pos- 
sessed any money; especially to those 
who, without shelter, literally piled 
themselves together for mutual warmth 
during the piercing cold and rain of a 
southern winter night. 

The soup was made in the following 
manner : A cabbage consisted of a stalk 
with a tuft of leaves on the upper end 
and a bunch of roots on the lower end. 
The whole was washed clean and 
chopped up fine with the knife-chisel. 
The sliced leaves, stem and roots were 
boiled in eight quarts of water until 
made as tender as heat could do it. Into 



50 Prison Life in Anders onville 

the green colored liquid was stirred 
some flour thickening; the whole was 
salted and a minced red pepper was 
added for pungency, while a whole pep- 
per floated on the surface as an adver- 
tisement. 

For a soup dipper a piece of pail hoop 
was riveted to the side of a condensed 
milk can, the two rivets being cut from 
a copper cent with the chisel driven with 
the shoe hammer. For soup plates a 
canteen was melted apart and the two 
halves formed each a plate. On ^Market 
Square, down by the swamp, four slen- 
der stakes were driven and thereon was 
placed a pine shake, which formed the 
soup counter. The soup kettle was cov- 
ered with a piece of woolen shirt, which 
kept in the heat. Very early each morn- 
ing we opened up for business and a 
line of shivering men in rags and near- 
ly perished from exposure formed as 
the soup brigade. The price per plate 

♦Market Square was a piece of made ground on the 
edge of the swamp in the center of the prison. Here 
men came together to barter trinkets they had made to 
while away the time, to exchange parts of rations, and 
to indulge generally, so far as they could, in the Yan- 
kee instinct for trade. 



The Prison Commissariat 



51 



was a five-cent shinplaster of TJ. S. 
fractional currency. The poor fellow 
who had no money must needs go with- 
out. As new prisoners ceased to arrive 
the money supply was soon gathered up 
and the prison sutler went away and 
trade was brought to an end. 




A DREAM 



Our last plate of soup was sold to a 
Maine soldier who paid for it his last 
five cents. He w r as nearly naked and 
incessantly shivered from the cold. The 
writer found him the following morn- 
ing, after a night of rain, to which he 
was exposed, with his knees drawn up 



52 Prison Life in Anders onville 

to his chin in the instinctive effort to 
bring the surfaces of his body together 
for warmth. With difficulty his frame 
was straightened out for burial. 

The profit of this business for several 
weeks gave to our group of six one fairly 
good meal each day and made possible 
the survival of those of our number who 
finally emerged from this awful prison 
life. 



CHAPTER IV. 

A DEARTH OF WATER. 

If the food supply of Andersonville 
was bad, the water supply was worse. 
To understand the situation and to see 
how little was done to overcome the dif- 
ficulties involved, and to make the most 
of the existing facilities for the relief of 
the suffering, one has to consider the 
formation of this prison encampment. 

The surface of the interior consisted 
of two hillsides, sloping respectively 
north and south towards the center 
which was occupied by a swamp of near- 
ly four acres. This was traversed by a 
sluggish creek which was some five feet 
wide and six inches deep, and made its 
way along the foot of the south slope. 
Up the stream were located the head- 
quarters of Capt. Wirtz, the camps of 
the Confederate artillery and infantry 
and the cook-house for the prisoners. 

53 



54 Prison Life in Anders onville 

The drainage of these localities entered 
the creek which flowed into the prison 
through spaces between the stockade 
timbers, and polluted the water which 
was the chief supply of the prison, and 
which, at midnight, in its clearest con- 
dition, was the color of amber. The in- 
tervening space at the foot of the north 
hill was a wide morass, and when over- 
flowed by rains became a vast cesspool 
on which boundless swarms of flies set- 
tled down and laid their eggs; which 
were speedily hatched by the fervent 
heat of the nearly tropical sun, and be- 
came a horrible undulating mass. On 
a change of wind the odor could be- de- 
tected miles away; indeed it was re- 
ported that the people of Macon peti- 
tioned General Howell Cobb, the mili- 
tary governor of Georgia, for a removal 
of the prison located sixty miles away, 
lest an awful pestilence sweep over their 
country ! 

The turkey buzzards, birds of ill omen, 
would come up against the wind, alight 
on the bare limbs of the tall pines over- 
looking the prison, and circle over the 



A Dearth of Water 55 

grizzled city as if waiting to descend for 
a carrion feast. 

When we entered the prison on May 
23rd, our detachment of two hundred 
and seventy men was scheduled fifty- 
five, indicating the presenc of fourteen 
thousand eight hundred and fifty pris- 
oners. The number steadily rose until 
a reported thirty-five thousand were 
present at one time. As the arrivals in- 
creased by hundreds and thousands, the 
daily mortality was counted by scores 
and hundreds, and many of the sick 
were without shelter from the heat of 
the pitiless sun. 

As the killed and wounded are scat- 
tered over the fields of the sanguinary 
battle, so our dying sick lay around on 
every hand. In the early summer, Capt. 
Wirtz issued to the prisoners picks and 
shovels, with which to dig wells for in- 
creased water supply. From some of 
these wells the men started tunnels 
through which to escape. Discovering 
this, the commander withdrew the tools, 
and ordered the wells to be filled up. 
Permission to keep one of them open 



56 Prison Life in Andersonville 

was purchased by a group of prisoners. 
It <vas sunk to a necessary depth, cov- 
ered with a platform and trap door, and 
supplied about one thousand men. 

Aside from this well, for the favored 
few, the only water supply was from 
about twelve feet of the length of the 
creek which reached between the dead- 
line and the bridge connecting the two 
divisions of the prison. A terrible 
water famine set in, with the result that 
many of the ailing ones became insane 
from thirst. 

In these unsanitary surroundings 
there is a well authenticated case of a 
man who was severely afflicted with 
scurvy. As he lay in the place of filth 
and stench, without medical attention 
until gangrene of the lower limbs set in, 
he realized that to save his life he must 
lose his feet. No one of his comrades 
had the nerve to perform the necessary 
operation, so he obtained an old knife 
and disjointed his pedal extremities. 

"In November, 1863, an order was issued for 
the establishment of a prison in Georgia, the 
granary of the eastern part of the Confederacy, 



A Dearth of Water 57 

and for this purpose a tract of land was selected 
near the town of Andersonville. A stockade 
15 feet high, inclosing I6V2 acres, was built, and 
this, in June, 1864, was enlarged to 26 x /2 acres, 
but 3!/4 acres near the center were too marshy 
to be used. A small stream ran through the 
inclosure, which, it was thought, would furnish 
water sufficient for drinking and for bathing. 
The trees within the stockade were cut down 
and no shelter was provided for the expected 
inmates, who began to arrive in February, 
1864, before the rude prison was completed ac- 
cording to the design, and before an adequate 
supply of bacon for their use had been re- 
ceived. Prisoners continued to come until, on 
the 5th of May, there were about 12,000, which 
number went on increasing until in August it 
exceeded 32,000. Their condition was one of 
extreme wretchedness. Those who came first 
erected rude shelters from the debris of the 
stockade; later arrivals burrowed in the 
ground or protected themselves with any blan- 
kets or pieces of cloth of which they had not 
been deprived according to the practice of rob- 
bing men who were taken prisoners which pre- 
vailed on both sides. Through an unfortunate 
location of the baking and cooking houses on 
the creek above the stockade the water became 
polluted before it reached the prisoners, so 
that to obtain pure water they must dig wells. 
After a severe storm a spring broke out within 
the inclosure, and this became one of the main 



58 Prison Life in Anders onville 

reliances for drinking water. The sinks were 
constructed over the lower part of the stream, 
but the current was not swift enough to carry- 
away the ordure, and when the stream was 
swollen by rain and overflowed, the foecal 
matter was deposited over a wide area, pro- 
ducing a horrible stench. This was the famous 
prison of Andersonville. " — From Rhodes' His- 
tory of the United States, Vol. V, pp. 483-515. 

"The history of Andersonville prison pen has 
shocked the world with its tales of horror, of 
woe, and of death, before unheard of and un- 
known to civilization. No pen can describe, no 
artist can paint, no imagination comprehend 
their fearful and unutterable sufferings. 

"Into the narrow confines of this prison 
were herded more than thirty-five thousand en- 
listed men, whose only fault was they 'wore 
the Union blue,' many of them the bravest and 
best, the most devoted and heroic of those 
grand armies that carried the flag of the Union 
to final victory. For long and weary months 
they suffered and died for that flag. Here they 
suffered unsheltered from the burning rays of a 
southern sun, or were drenched by the rain and 
deadly dews of the night. All this while they 
were in every stage of physical disease — hun- 
gered, emaciated, starving. 

"Is it a wonder that during the month of 
August, 1864, one man died in every eleven 
minutes, night and day, or that, for six months, 
beginning April, 1864, one died every twenty- 






A Dearth of Water 59 

two and one-half minutes night and day? This 
should forever silence the assertion that men 
would be taken prisoners rather than risk their 
lives on the firing line. The lack of water was 
the cause of much disease and suffering. Un- 
der the most favorable circumstances the water 
supply was insufficient for one-quarter of the 
number of men confined there. All the water 
obtainable was from a sluggish creek that ran 
through the grounds; and, in addition to this, 
there were thirty-six hundred men acting as 
guards camped on the bank of this stream be- 
fore it reached the prison pen, and the water 
became so foul no words can describe it." — 
From ''A Sketch of Anderson ville, " by Mrs. 
Lizabeth A. Turner, Chairman Andersonville 
Prison Board. Journal of the Twenty-fifth Na- 
tional Convention of the Woman's Belief Corps, 
page 169. 



60 Prison Life in Anders onville 



More things are wrought by prayer 
Than this world dreams of." 

— Tennyson. 



CHAPTER V. 

A CRY TO HEAVEN. 

The bitter cry which arose from the 
suffering camp was changed on the lips 
of a few to an appeal to heaven. Where 
else could men look in their dire extrem- 
ity? One evening early in August the 
sound of the old long metre doxology 
was heard from the voices of a group 
of men gathered around the solitary 
pine stump in the enclosure, which was 
situated at the end of the north street 
of the prison where space was left for 
the ration wagon to turn around. On 
this stump was seated an emaciated 
cavalry sergeant, Mr. Shepard, of Col- 
umbus, Ohio, formerly an honored 
preacher of the gospel. In days past 
he had frequently been called upon to 
offer prayer over the remains of some 
deceased comrade, and now he led in 
the old and well-known hymn to call 
like-minded souls together. 

61 



62 Prison Life in Andersonville 

Some twenty-five unkempt, starving 
men gathered around him and joined in 
the familiar strain. What memories of 
family worship and old-time services in 
the meeting-house those words called 
up. Said Brother Shepard in sub- 
stance : "I have today read in the book 
of Numbers of Moses striking the rock 
from which water gushed out for the 
ample supply of man and beast. I tell 
you God must strike a rock in Ander- 
sonville or we shall all die of thirst. 
And if there is no rock here, He can 
smite the ground and bring forth water 
to supply our desperate needs. Of this 
I am sure ; let us ask Him to do this. ' ' 

Pointing to an uncombed, unwashed, 
ragged comrade standing close by, he 
said, "Will the brother from Chicago 
pray?" He then successively called 
on other acquaintances, distinguishing 
them by their different localities at 
home. All the prayers were poured out 
in the one desire for water. 

For perhaps an hour the meeting con- 
tinued and closed with the doxology. 
The words of the leader were, "Boys, 



A Cry to Heaven 63 

when you awake during the night offer 
to God a little prayer for water. Do 
the same many times tomorrow, and let 
us meet here in the evening to pray 
again for water. ' ' 

If memory be not at fault, these in- 
dividual and collective petitions were 
steadfastly offered from Monday even- 
ing to Thursday evening. 

For a month previous we had noticed 
that a number of the stockade timbers 
near the north gate had been loosened 
by the percolating of the copious rain 
and that they were sagging considerably 
and had settled out of line. We won- 
dered why they had been allowed to re- 
main so long in this unsafe condition. 
Was it a coincidence that after prayer 
began to be offered the quartermaster 
of the prison notified Capt. Wirtz that 
stockade timbers were out of line and 
should be set right ? He was ordered to 
take a gang of slaves and make the 
necessary repairs. About fifteen stal- 
wart negroes were marched through the 
main gate and turned into the twenty- 
foot space between the dead-line and 



64 Prison Life in Anders onville 

the wall. With pike poles the closely 
adjoining posts were heaved into posi- 
tion and the earth was closely tamped. 
Then the workers faced about and 
commenced digging a trench up the hill 
nearly as wide as the space between the 
dead-line and the stockade. A part of 
the gang swung their picks into the red 
clay which was shoveled agains the 
timbers. Another set followed with 
heavy rammers and pounded the whole 
into a smooth, sloping surface which 
was tamped closely to the base of the 
wooden wall, making a perfect water- 
shed, and thus preventing the further 
loosening of the earth at the base of the 
stockade. By Thursday evening the 
broad trench with rounded bottom was 
completed from the swamp up the dead 
line space to the north gate. 



THE WOMANS RELIEF CORPS 

'Today beneath our Nation's flag, 

The old red, white and blue, 
A band of noble women work 

With a purpose just and true; 
To aid and succor those who [ought 

To save our honored land, 
For home and freedom, God and right 

Those earnest women stand." 




PROVIDENCE SPRING AND WOMEN OF THE RELIEF CORPS 



CHAPTER VI. 

UNSEALING OF THE SPRING. 

On Friday morning an ominous still- 
ness pervaded nature. By the middle of 
the forenoon a dense, dark cloud was 
noticed in the southwest quarter of the 
horizon, slowly creeping upward. It 
rose above the treetops majestic and 
awful in appearance. A troop of small, 
scurrying, angry-looking clouds seemed 
to form an advancing line to the vast 
mass of storm cloud. The onward move- 
ment quickened, and soon the front of 
the mountain of approaching cloud as- 
sumed a gray appearance, caused by the 
mighty downpour of water which more 
nearly than anything else seemed a con- 
tinuous cloudburst. 

Crashes of thunder broke over our 
heads and flashes of lightning swished 
around us as if the air was filled with 
short circuits. The awful moving wall 

65 



66 Prison Life in Anders onville 

came towards us rapidly and we under- 
stood what was happening. 

As the mighty deluge swept through 
the clearing west of the prison, we 
bowed our heads in preparation of sub- 
mersion in the advancing waterspout. 
When it came upon us the sensation was 
as if a million buckets of water were 
being poured upon us at once. The air 
was so filled with the roaring, hissing 
flood that we could not look up, but bent 
forward to protect our faces, covering 
our nostrils with our hands to preserve 
a little breathing space. 

Instantly rivulets of water poured 
down over our bodies as if a hose were 
discharging its stream on our shoulders, 
and the surface of the filthy ground was 
soon covered with a rush of muddy wa- 
ter. The swamp space as quickly filled 
with great swirling eddies. The upper 
stockade served as a dam across the 
creek, which in a few minutes became 
swollen into the dimensions of a river. 
Driftwood bore down upon the stockade, 
causing it to give way with a mighty 
crash. The heavy timbers were whirled 



Unsealing of the Spring 67 

across the prison as if they were mere 
straws, and by the force of their impact 
carried away the rear stockade. From 
the batteries solid shot was fired over 
our heads to warn us that if we attempt- 
ed to escape through the opening in the 
wall we would be swept by the cannon. 
The roar of the guns chimed harmoni- 
ously with the thundering of the storm. 
In the awful suspense of such over- 
whelming conditions the progress of 
time could not be measured. The down- 
pour may have continued twenty min- 
utes, perhaps half an hour, or possibly 
longer. So great was its fury that we 
felt it must soon end or it would end us. 
Fortunately, it ceased as suddenly as it 
came. Looking up, we saw the great 
water wall retreating. The sun burst 
forth with unwonted vigor and shone 
with brilliant effect upon the receding 
rain. A dense fog arose from the dry- 
ing garments of thirty-five thousand hu- 
man bodies and from the exhalations of 
surrounding surfaces. As the heavy 
mist cleared away, the drenched and for- 
lorn prisoners tried to be merry. They 



68 Prison Life in Andersonville 

viewed with complacency the breach in 
the walls of the infamous pen and 
wished that every timber had been lev- 
eled to the earth. 

A witty comrade on the south hill of 
the prison, thinking to convey desired 
information to the north side, shouted 
at the top of his voice, l ' Water ! Water ! ' ' 
Men on the north side, as by a common 
impulse, answered back, and the two 
great companies in turn shouted the 
magic word, much as the opposite hosts 
on Ebal and Gerazim alternately re- 
sponded, "Amen." 

Immediately after this antiphonal 
outburst a voice was heard from the 
north gate, ringing out in clear tones the 
thrilling words, "A spring! A spring! 
A spring has broken out!" "Where, 
where?" was the eager inquiry which 
arose at once from many lips. The 
writer tried to press his way towards 
the north gate, but the crowd was so 
dense that no progress could be made. 
The excitement of the moment was in- 
describable. During a lull some one 
sang out, "You fellows over by the 



Unsealing of the Spring 69 

north gate, tell us, has a spring broken 
out?" "Yes," was the reply, an em- 
phatic "Yes." Then was further 
shouted the explanation, "Where the 
trench was dug the flood has torn up 
the earth and a spring has gushed out. ' ' 

As soon as opportunity afforded we 
pressed our way to the spot, and there, 
just below the north gate, in the center 
of the space between the stockade and 
the dead-line, at the point where the 
earth had been most deeply excavated, 
the sloping surfaces had gathered the 
waters of the flood. The bottom of the 
trench was torn up some twenty inches, 
uncovering the vent of a spring of pur- 
est crystal water, which shot up into the 
air in a column and, falling in a fanlike 
spray, went babbling down the grade 
into the noxious brook. Looking across 
the dead-line, we beheld with wondering 
eyes and grateful hearts the fountain 
spring. 

But our relief was not yet realized; 
the question which now concerned us 
was how to bring its cooling waters 
within reach of our lips. In the after- 



70 Prison Life in Andersonville 

noon and evening of that eventful Fri- 
day we prayed that God would so turn 
the heart of Capt, Wirtz that he would 
allow the precious water to be conveyed 
within our lines. We waited in sus- 
pense for the answer, and on Saturday 
morning, to our delight, we saw the 
quartermaster again enter the gate with 
a gang of slaves, bringing fence boards, 
hammers, nails, axes and stakes. A 
double row of the latter was driven, so 
that the direction crossed the dead-line 
at a slight angle down the hill. A strip 
was nailed across each pair of stakes, 
and in the aperture rested a trough 
made of two fence boards nailed to- 
gether. At the lower end of this chute 
in an excavation was set a sugar hogs- 
head, around which clay was tamped so 
as to aid in making it watertight. When 
all was ready the upper end of the chute 
was thrust under the falling column of 
water, which swiftly ran down and filled 
to overflowing the large barrel. From 
this the men by crowds dipped freely of 
the refreshing, life-giving water. 

Laughter, songs and thanksgiving 



Unsealing of the Spring 71 

abounded. Thus was wrought before 
our eyes a gracious work of Providence 
which to many of us was quite as won- 
derful and quite as manifestly the work 
of the All-Father as was the smitten 
rock in the Palestine desert from which 
the thirst of the fainting hosts of Israel 
was slacked in their desert wanderings. 




Stockade burst ed by a flood which opened the wonderful 
"Providence Spring" 



CHAPTER VII. 

WAS IT A MIRACLE? 

A profound conviction has been cher- 
ished by many that the unsealing of 
Providence Spring was as marked an 
interposition of the hand of the Al- 
mighty as that recorded in the Book of 
Numbers where it is said, "And Moses 
lifted up his hand, and smote the rock 
with his rod twice; and water came 
forth abundantly and the congregation 
drank.' ' Num. 20:11. 

Are they wrong in this conviction? 
The unwontedness of the incident ad- 
mits of no dispute. In such a sober 
work as Rhodes History of the United 
States, we have the statement, "After 
a severe storm a spring broke out with- 
in the enclosure (Andersonville stock- 
ade) and this became one of the main 
reliances for drinking water.' ' Vol. V., 
p. 492. 

72 



Was It a Miracle ? 73 

An eye witness records: " About the 
first of August showers fell that beat 
anything I ever saw. There was one 
good result, for where the stockade was 
washed away on the north side, it 
opened a spring of pure water, enough 
to supply nearly the whole of the 
prison." (The narrative of Amos E. 
Stearns, Co. A, 25th Regiment, Mass. 
Published by Franklin Pierce, 1887.) 

While comparatively few of the pris- 
oners knew of the days of prayer that 
preceded the storm, every one recog- 
nized that something out of the ordinary 
course of events had happened; and 
that a new spirit pervaded the camp. 
Before this, no one would give a dying 
man a drink, for water was scarce, and 
the scurvy in the recipient's mouth 
might contaminate the cup for its 
owner. And indeed, not many had the 
strength to wait upon others. But now 
the dull, sombre, despairing mood was 
changed. The little stream of pure 
water, contrasted with the former slough 
that supplied us, murmured sweetly 
down through the night, and during the 



74 Prison Life in Anders onville 

day it over-brimmed thousands of cups 
that eager hands reached forth. 

In after days many of these men were 
gathered at Camp Chase, Ohio, and 
there detained until improved health 
rendered them presentable for return 
home. 

We recall that when in the chapel of 
that place a Capt. Allen conducted even- 
ing religious services, hundreds of testi- 
monies were given to the effect that the 
breaking out of the spring at Anderson- 
ville was a distinct answer to prayer 
and a convincing fact of the reality of 
help coming from above. Many of the 
speakers declared that their Christian 
faith began from that occurrence. 

Questions such as the following natu- 
rally arise : Was Providence Spring a 
miracle ? Would the saving relief have 
been withheld if prayer had not been 
offered? 

The situation is not more difficult of 
analysis than is that described in the 
story of Queen Esther where is exhib- 
ited the interplay of natural and super- 
natural elements in human activitv and 



Was It a Miracle ? 75 

Divine over-ruling. The northern sec- 
tion of the Andersonville inclosure was 
mainly a bank of clay, as evidenced by 
the many wells which were partially 
sunk, but filled, by order of Capt. Wirtz, 
because tunnels therefrom were dug for 
escape. The vein of water which issued 
in Providence Spring doubtless flowed 
from time immemorial, and being un- 
able to work upward through a too great 
overpress of clay, had found a lower 
seam through which it seeped into the 
depths of the swamp below. This im- 
plied fact was learned as follows: As 
the prison administration was unable to 
cook meal and bacon for the increasing 
thousands of men, these articles were 
issued raw for two weeks alternately to 
the north and south sides of the enclo- 
sure. 

A distressingly small lot of wood must 
suffice a detachment of two hundred and 
seventy men for three days. Often the 
individual portion would not make a fire 
that would scald, much less cook, the 
scant portion of cornmeal, which was 
sometimes coarse and unbolted. It was 



76 Prison Life in Andersonville 

said that more than ten thousand cases 
of bloody dysentery prevailed at one 
time ; aggravated by irritation to stom- 
ach and intestines from the practically 
uncooked food. The awful unsanitary 
conditions which prevailed can be de- 
scribed, but respect for the sensibilities 
of the reader forbids. Suffice it to say 
that the need for fuel was urgent, that 
a number of the stronger captives would 
lay aside their tattered remnants of 
clothing, wade into the slimy muck of 
the swamp, and, sinking to their arm- 
pits, would pull up fragments of wood 
that had long been submerged. This 
was mostly pitch pine and when broken 
up would quickly burn. The work of 
exhuming fuel under such repulsive con- 
ditions was chiefly done at night. 

It was noticed that in the morning the 
partially remaining foot-prints and de- 
pression, from which the stick had been 
drawn, were filled with clear water. 
This fact was a mystery until after the 
spring was opened ; then the conclusion 
was reached that the spring water fol- 
lowed a deep seam in the clay and oozed 



Was It a Miracle f 77 

into the swamp some distance below the 
surface and rose up through the open- 
ings made by the wood-diggers. 

Therefore Providence Spring was not 
especially created to order. Like Topsy, 
it had " alius' ' been. The providential 
aspects of the case may be thus stated ; 
the spring existed, but was unknown. 
It was located under the space between 
the dead-line and the stockade, through 
which digging for a well was not per- 
mitted ; it therefore remained undiscov- 
ered. The out-of -plumb position of the 
stockade timbers had existed for a long 
time, but was not noticed by the officials 
until the time when prayer began to be 
offered for water. As the petitions of 
Esther and Mordecai, unknown to the 
King, in a manner unseen affected his 
action, so by analogy, the prayer of Ser- 
geant Shepard and his colleagues influ- 
enced the state of mind of the quarter- 
master and of Commandant Wirtz and 
they were moved to the repairing of the 
stockade which had long been neglected. 

This decision led to the forming of a 
broad trench by digging away the 



78 Prison Life in Anders onville 

ground to afford the needed watershed 
from the base of the stockade. 

Thus a channel was formed which 
gathered the storm-water with force 
sufficient to tear away the ground over 
the spring and release the life-giving 
fountain. The slaves removed quite a 
depth of the earth directly over the un- 
known reservoir; thus the deepest part 
of the trench was brought so near the 
spring that the rush of the storm-flow 
could do the rest. 

The spring water was uncovered and 
its pressure was sufficient to throw it 
into the air, However, as it was located 
on the forbidden margin, any prisoner 
reaching under or over the dead-line for 
a draught of the water would be in- 
stantly shot by the sentinel posted over- 
head on the wall. 

Hence, after the spring was opened 
an object of much desire, and suitable as 
a subject of prayer, was that the hard- 
ness of Capt. Wirtz would be relaxed 
to the extent of allowing the prisoners 
to have access to the water. This result 



Was It a Miracle ? 79 

was accomplished and the relief was 
complete. 

A recent writer commenting on the 
development of Providence Spring re- 
fers to the marble fountain erected by 
the Ex-Prisoners of War Association 
inside the granite pavilion built over the 
spring by the Woman's Relief Corps, 
remarks, "The waters flow strong and 
sweet with a never-ceasing stream into 
the marble basin. It is said to be the 
best water in all Georgia; that which 
gushes forth from the side of the little 
hill in Andersonville. ' ' Confirmatory to 
this statement is the following incident : 

In 1896, when the writer lectured in 
Warsaw, N. Y., on "Reminiscences of 
Battle-fields and Prisons," a prominent 
war veteran of the town, who had been 
a member of the staff of General Grant, 
showed him a bottle of water from Prov- 
idence Spring which nine years before 
had been hermetically sealed by the Rev. 
G. Stanley Lathrop of Atlanta. So pure 
was the content that no sediment existed. 

The further comment is : " The scien- 
tific fact of Providence Spring is that 



80 Prison Life in Andersonville 

in the August electrical storm the rocks 
(clay) which held back this spring were 
cracked or broken open by a lightning 
bolt and the waters gushed forth. No 
one ever believed that it was a sort of 
Moses intervention for the prisoners, 
but it was undoubtedly looked upon in 
that light by the poor, thirsty, half- 
starved prisoners." 

To which we reply that if we believe 
in prayer as an instrumentality by 
which human and divine forces co- 
operate to a beneficent end, and the re- 
sult takes place, why should we question 
the efficacy of intercession ? 

The fact that a number of believing 
men in the prison were engaged for some 
days in protracted prayer for relief 
from water-famine was not ostentati- 
ously announced at the time, and was 
little noticed by the crowd. Thus has it 
ever been with the origin of great spir- 
itual movements. 

The relief came and a new spirit of 
hope and gladness, such as prevailing 
prayer engenders, swept through the 
multitude. 



Was It a Miracle ? 81 

The scienctific fact of a mightly rain 
storm being the visible agency of com- 
pleting the opening of Providence 
Spring fitly coordinates with the moral 
force of prayer, as in numberless in- 
stances such convergence occurs in his- 
tory. Nevertheless, this explantion will 
probably be accepted or challenged ac- 
cording to the personal experience of 
the reader in matters of Christian faith. 

In the case of the smitten rock of the 
Palestine desert water doubtless existed 
in an abundant, although unknown sup- 
ply. The Almighty, by the agency of 
Moses, brought it forth for the satisfy- 
ing of a great multitude. 

The prophet was commanded to speak 
to the rock and it would give forth 
water. The response could be from none 
other than the Creator of all mountains 
and flowing streams. And although 
Moses went beyond the Divine com- 
mand, and struck with a rod instead of 
speaking with his voice, yet the Divine 
goodness was not withheld, "and the 
water came abundantly." So at Ander- 
sonville the sufficient, though unknown, 



82 Prison Life in Anders onville 

supply was close at hand. Human 
voices pleading for relief were answered 
by Him who spoke by the wind, the 
lightning and the flood. 

It is said that the spiritual desires of 
our hearts are the reflection of what God 
is waiting to do for us through our own 
co-operation. Surely then, the prayers 
of the Andersonville prisoners for water 
were incited by Him who saw their dire 
necessity, and who waited only for 
human hands to aid in the release of the 
fountain of water which his Omnipo- 
tence had created. 

During the subsequent years the 
writer has given the foregoing account 
in lectures and conversations to his 
comrades of the Grand Army of the Re- 
public and to many others. Gentlemen 
of scientific and Christian attainments 
have said that this explanation of the 
phenomenon of Providence Spring is 
the most satisfactory of any that they 
have heard. 

The event here chronicled is com- 
memorated by the erection on the spot 
of a granite pavilion which is appro- 



Was It a Miracle t 83 

priately named ." Providence Spring.'' 
The inscriptions are as follows : 

This Fountain Erected by 

The National Association of Union 

Ex-Prisoners of War 

In Memory of the 52,345 Comrades 

who were confined here as prisoners of 

war, and of 

the 13,900 comrades buried in the 

adjoining National Cemetery. 

Dedicated Memorial Day, 

May Thirteenth, Nineteen Hundred 

and One. 

James Atwell, National Commander. 

S. M. Long, Adjt. Gen'l. 
J. D. Walker, Cham. Ex. Committee. 
A reverse tablet bears the words : 
This Pavilion Was Erected by the 

Woman 's Relief Corps 

Auxiliary to the Grand Army of the 

Republic 

In grateful memory of the men who 

suffered and died in the 

Confederate Prison at Andersonville, 

Georgia, 
From February, 1864, to April, 1865. 



84 Prison Life in Anders onville 

"The prisoner's cry of thirst rang up 
to heaven ; 

God heard, and with his thunder cleft 
the earth 

And poured his sweetest waters gush- 
ing here." 
"Erected 1901." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

DELIVERANCE. 

*At a point on the Cape Fear river, 
about ten miles from Wilmington, 
N. C, a trainload of old Anderson- 
ville prisoners who had been confined 
also at Florence, S. C, and Salisbury, 
N. C, were delivered to General Terry. 
They had just been paroled at Golds- 
boro, and were received by him about 
the middle of March, 1865. His head- 
quarters was at a point on the Cape 
Fear river and recently taken from the 
enemy. It was now held by the Third 
New Hampshire, Sixteenth New York 
heavy artillery, and by a division of 
colored troops. 

*On February 20th, 1912, the writer received a call 
from an old friend, Rev. M. L. Holt, of Neligh, Nebraska. 
He gives this confirmatory statement to Mr. Maile: "As 
Sergeant Major of the Third New Hampshire Veteran 
Volunteer Infantry I can certify to the military sur- 
roundings at the place of your release. Two days before 
your arrival from Goldsboro, General Terry ordered our 
Third New Hampshire to make a forced march to a 
point ten miles distant from Wilmington on the North- 
east branch of the Cape Fear river and take from the 
enemy a pontoon bridge at that point. 

85 



86 Prison Life in Andersonville 

The freight cars halted in a pine for- 
est about a mile from this position, 
which commanded a pontoon bridge. 
A squad of cavalry received the ex-pris- 
oners, unfurling the Stars and Stripes 
in greeting. Many of the boys in blue 
wept, when they saw our plight. The 
released men tried to hurrah, but were 
too weak to raise much of a shout. 
Three ambulances were loaded with as 
many of the sick as could be taken on 
the first trip. 

At the farther end of the pontoon 
bridge the road led through a deep cut 
in the bank up to the open space of the 
camp where guns pointed over the river 
towards the forest through which the 
freight train had come from Goldsboro 
with the paroled men. Spanning this 
cut was an arch constructed of ever- 
green boughs and faced with the white 

"We skirmished with the foe nearly the entire dis- 
tance and came tip to them just as they had cut the 
near end of the bridge from the bank. With our ma- 
chine guns we drove them off and moored the bridge 
back to its place. On the second day after we received 
the old Andersonville prisoners and had the satisfaction 
of knowing we had prepared their way by having the 
bridge in readiness for them to cross the river into our 
lines. I shall never forget the impression made upon us 
by the condition of these survivors of Confederate pris- 
ons. These events occurred in March, 1861." 



Deliverance 87 

cloth square of shelter tent, upon which 
was spelled in letters made of evergreen 
sprigs, "THE SIXTEENTH NEW 
YORK WELCOMES YOU HOME.'' 

The march of a mile from the railroad 
to the pontoon bridge greatly exhausted 
the paroled prisoners. At first the ex- 
citement of once more gazing upon the 
flag they loved, and being received by 
the advanced squadron, stimulated them 
to walk with some show of vigor. 

But soon their eyes shone with the 
unwonted brightness of fatigue in con- 
trast with their pinched and grimy 
faces. Many sank by the wayside, to 
be picked up by the ambulance when the 
same could return for them. 

The stronger ones worked up into the 
head of the column which crossed the 
pontoon bridge and the advance files of 
men undertook to walk up through the 
cut in the bank at the bridge end. But 
their feet sank in the sand and they 
were too weak to go further. 

Meanwhile a company of colored sol- 
diers were drawn up through the cut 
in two ranks facing. Between these 



88 Prison Life in Anders onville 

lines and under the arch our ambulance 
passed; the horses tugging with might 
and main up the steep grade and 
through the deep sand. The white offi- 
cers and the black soldiers stood at 
" Present Arms." The eyes of the sol- 
diers opened and their teeth gleamed 
with an aspect of astonishment, as they 
for the first time beheld seasoned gradu- 
ates from a course of experiences in 
war-prisons. The living wrecks in the 
aubulances were still more pale and 
ghastly than were the stronger ones fol- 
lowing slowly on foot, and as the latter 
emerged from the woods on to the float- 
ing bridge, the onlooking crowd of our 
men off duty began to be stirred with a 
great excitement. 

As the ambulances lined up before 
headquarters, General Terry approach- 
ed. With him were the brigade surgeon 
and a representative of the United 
States Christian Commission. The Gen- 
eral looked upon us with tear-dimmed 
eyes; and turning to the surgeon gave 
his pocket flask, saying, " Doctor, for 
God's sake, help these poor fellows." 



Deliverance 89 

This ambulance stopped on the crest 
of the hill, when the Christian Commis- 
sion man stepped to its side and said 
to the writer, "My boy, you will get out 
here." Seeing I was too weak to rise 
from the seat, he said, " Just lie across 
my shoulder." This I did and he car- 
ried me into a near-by country church 
building which sheltered the sick until 
they could be conveyed by boat to Wil- 
mington. 

Meanwhile the straggling column of 
paroled prisoners had crossed the 
bridge. An officer undertook to form 
them into ranks so as to march in form 
under the arch and between the lines 
which stood at " Present arms." Their 
feet sank in the soft sand of the cut, and 
after taking a few steps they were ut- 
terly exhausted. The officer in charge 
thus addressed the two lines : ' ' Shoulder 
arms!" " Order arms!" " Stack arms!" 
"Break ranks and carry these men up 
the hill!" With a mighty cheer the 
athletic colored soldiers sprang forward 
and each picked up an emaciated, wilted 
prisoner, carried him up the hill, and 



90 Prison Life in Andersonville 

tenderly placed him on the ground. In 
due time, the sick were taken by boat 
to the Wright House Hospital, Wil- 
mington, and the stronger ones were 
placed in a camp waiting transporta- 
tion by steamer to the north. 

In the winter of 1875-76, the partially 
regained health of the writer collapsed, 
and he was advised to consult his former 
regimental surgeon, Dr. Wells B. Fox. 
The Doctor said, ' ' You may live a good 
while, and you may not. Prepare to 
leave your family in as good shape as 
possible. If you have unsettled accounts 
fix them up." 

Pursuant to this advice, and needing 
the benefit of a climate warmer than a 
Michigan winter, he went to Washing- 
ton to close up some army matters. Here 
he was received very kindly by Surgeon 
General Barnes, and by him ordered to 
have a thorough examination by experts 
of the medical department. The diag- 
nosis was more favorable than was 
deemed possible, and its correctness has 
been verified by the subsequent years. 

On the journey from Cheboygan to 



Deliverance 91 

Washington, a stop was made at Green- 
ville. With his host, a call was made 
on the Eev. James L. Patton, pastor of 
the Congregational Church of that 
place. As the evening passed, conversa- 
tion turned to army happenings. After 
reciting some experiences in the service 
of the United States Christian Commis- 
sion, with an aroused manner, Dr. Pat- 
ton said, ' ' I must tell you of an occasion 
that I shall never forget. I was in the 
Christian Commission service outside 
Wilmington, North Carolina, near the 
close of the war, with General Terry, 
when he received the first installment of 
old Andersonville prisoners as they were 
sent into our lines. Terry was all broken 
up over their condition." " Could the 
prisoners walk?" asked the writer. 
' ' Yes, ' ' he replied ; ' i some of them could, 
but many had to be brought in on am- 
bulances." He was asked, "Where did 
you put those who were sick?" "We 
laid them on the floor of a little church 
that was close by," Dr. Patton replied. 
Extending his hand the writer said, "Dr. 
Patton, thank you." "Why, why," he 



92 Prison Life in Andersonville 

replied hesitatingly," you need not thank 
me for the story ; it is true and you are 
welcome to it." "Yes," was the re- 
sponse, "I have no doubt the story is 
true. I do not thank you for it, but 
for helping me out of the ambulance at 
that time." Need it be said that these 
two men found themselves comrades, in- 
deed? 



CHAPTER IX. 

AN INCIDENT BY THE WAY. 

A steamboat on the northeast branch 
of the Cape Pear river carried our pa- 
roled men from the station held by Gen- 
eral Terry to the city of Wilmington. 

One of the principal mansions was 
owned by a Dr. Wright who had fled 
with his family on the approach of the 
Union troops. His fine residence was 
converted into a hospital for the arrivals 
who were sick. 

During the ride from Goldsboro on 
top of a freight car, the writer was taken 
ill and was barely able to walk the 
steamer plank at the point of transfer. 
After resting in the little country church 
he was taken to the Wright House Hos- 
pital and assigned a straw bed on the 
floor of a room in the third story. Sol- 
dier nurses proceeded to take off his in- 
fested prison rags and to give him a 
sponge rub. He fainted under the pro- 

93 



94 Prison Life in Anders onville 

cess and had a run of fever during which 
he was delirious. 

When the point of death was appar- 
ently reached his vitality took a turn for 
the better and he rapidly improved. 

On the floor of his room were twelve 
narrow straw beds having a succession 
of occupants who, with a few exceptions, 
were soon transferred to their final rest- 
ing places. 

Many of the ex-prisoners having 
died from the effects of the too early 
use of solid food, the physicians became 
extremely cautious and limited the sick 
to small quantities of the most simple 
preparations. 

During the writer's convalescence, his 
ravenous hunger was unsatisfied by the 
slender allowance. It happened that his 
bed ended up to a window, and his fav- 
orite occupation was to sit on his pillow 
and watch the proceedings in the yard 
below. Here was a servant's cottage 
occupied by two colored women who 
evidently had excused themselves from 
flight with their master. The older one 
moved about with quiet dignity and 



An Incident by the Way 95 

doubtless had been the "mamma" of 
the family. With evident pleasure she 
watched the new life and movement 
around her, and held in restraint her 
young and vivacious companion. 

In the yard soldier cooks prepared in 
large kettles great quantities of beef 
soup, which was ladled into pails, car- 
ried to the kitchen and served to the 
patients throughout the building. 

A young artilleryman from Olean, 
New York, lay on a straw pallet along- 
side that of the writer. The one was 
called " Olean" and the other " Michi- 
gan." From his post of observation at 
the window the latter, one morning, 
watched the handling of the soup below 
with an interest that could not be con- 
cealed. "Say, Michigan, what are you 
looking at?" inquired Olean. "I am 
looking at them pouring out the soup," 
was the reply, "and say, Olean, I wish I 
could have a good smell of it." 

"Smell of the soup," said Olean con- 
temptuously; "if I was a wishing I'd 
wish I had some and not just a smell." 
Upon this sagacious remark, a number 



96 Prison Life in Anders onville 

of the occupants of the other beds passed 
the wink or laugh with a feeble, hacking 
sound; their pinched faces brightening 
with a sense of mirth. 

The practical wisdom of the sugges- 
tion was not lost upon " Michigan," who 
said, "If I was a little stronger I would 
take my cup, go down the stairs and into 
the yard and I would say, 'Boys, I'm 
awfully hungry; please give me some 
soup.' " Ah-ah-ah, laughed "Olean." 
"Say, Michigan, I'll bet you five cents 
you can't walk the length of your bed 
and touch the door knob." Upon this 
challenge, the other patients from their 
pillows exchanged glances, several 
braced up on the elbow and discussed the 
possibility of one of their number leav- 
ing his room without permission to for- 
age for refreshments. The concensus of 
opinion was that he could not succeed. 

"Who are you talking to ?" vigorously 
responded "Michigan." "You think I 
can 't do it ; I '11 show you what I can do. ' ' 
Grasping the projecting window mould- 
ing he helped himself to his feet, care- 
fully balancing his trembling steps along 



An Incident by the Way 97 

the narrow space between the beds on 
the floor, and triumphantly grasping the 
knob of the door exclaimed, ' ' There now, 
Olean ; I Ve done it ; I Ve done it. Where 
is your five cents V " Oh, I haven 't any 
five cents," replied Olean, "but say, 
Michigan, you would look mighty fine 
going down those stairs, wouldn't you?" 

Thereupon the observing comrades 
laughed in great glee ; in weakness, like 
little children, a very trifling incident 
amused them; they nodded their heads 
at each other and exchanged approving 
glances. 

Our regulation costume was a gray 
army shirt, drawers of like material, and 
a pair of socks. Thus appareled ' ' Mich- 
igan" opened the door into the hall, 
peered over the railing down the two 
flights of stairs and, seeing the coast 
clear, worked along to the newel post 
and carefully lowered himself one or two 
steps. 

Thinking discretion might be the bet- 
ter part of valor, he tested his strength 
for the return by trying to retrace the 
steps down which he had come. He was 



98 Prison Life in Andersonville 

quite unable to lift himself on the ris- 
ing, so must needs continue down the 
two flights, resting his weight on the rail. 
Dizzy and breathless he stood by the 
stair post on the main floor. At this 
juncture the hospital steward suddenly 
entered and was amazed to find a very 
weak patient in a state of migration. 
' i What are you doing here ? ' ' he hurried- 
ly and angrily asked. "What room do 
^you belong to and who said you might 
leave it?" "Oh, I'm just taking a lit- 
tle exercise," was the reply. The stew- 
ard rang for an attendant, and with an 
oath said, "No more of this ; I will order 
a man to help you to your room and 
there you stay. ' ' 

But no helper appeared, so our hero 
summoned all his determination and 
walked through the hall to the back 
porch. Here a stack of plain coffins 
greeted his view; and he fancied that 
one of them belonged to him. Going 
down the veranda steps he held to the 
rail and coming into the full rays of 
the sun turned faint and for a few min- 
utes was helpless. Again, he summoned 



An Incident by the Way 99 

all the powers of his will and started 
down the gravel walk towards the ser- 
vant's cottage. 

Reaching the porch of the same, he 
sank exhausted on the steps with head 
resting against the corner post. Just 
then the old "mamma" came out of her 
room and caught sight of the wasted 
form and pale face of the would-be soup 
hunter. Gazing pityingly upon his 
emaciation, and speaking to her as- 
sistant, she exclaimed, " Dinah, Dinah, 
come yeah, come yeah; look at dat ar' 
po ' white chile ; he bleached so white as 
linen !" 

Then addressing him, she said, "Wah 
yo ' come from ? ' ' Wah yo ' come from % ' ' 
"Oh, auntie," he gasped, "I came out 
of the hospital to get some soup and I 
can't get any further. Auntie, give me 
something to eat ; I 'm awfully hungry ! ' ' 
"Dinah, Dinah," she said. "Go to the 
cupboard and git a big slice ob de co'n 
pone; jes slip it undah you aprun and 
bring it yeah to me." Passing the gen- 
erous slice under her own apron, the old 
mammy stood by the veranda post, look- 



100 Prison Life in Anders onville 

ing the meanwhile intently at a distant 
object as if oblivious to all near con- 
cerns. 

Thus she partially screened the in- 
valid from observation, and reaching the 
portion down to his hand, tenderly said, 
"Dar now, honey, yo eat dat bread.' ' 
No second invitation to indulge his fam- 
ished appetite was needed. The slice 
of "co'n pone" speedily disappeared. 
Strange to say, no inconvenience re- 
sulted. The food aroused the dormant 
vitality and the young fellow eagerly 
exclaimed, "Auntie, Auntie, that was so 
good. Give me some more." "No, 
honey," she said decisively, "de doctah 
see me do dis yah, I done go, suah." 
Then the invalid began to cry hysteri- 
cally. The sympathy of the kind old 
heart was still further aroused and, 
spreading her great hand on his head, 
she said softly, "Po chile, po chile, he 
want ta see he muddah." 

"Mother, Mother!" How that word 
stirred his heart and aroused his mem- 
ory so weakened by suffering. Physical 
vigor from the dark hand upon his 



An Incident by the Way 101 

head was surcharged with vitality that 
probably stimulated the depleted per- 
sonality. 

Again the young man asked, " Aunty, 
aunty, give me some more," and again 
came the reply, "No, honey, de doctah 
see me do dis, he send me off for suah. ' ' 
Meanwhile "Olean" was pressing his 
face against the third-story window to 
see how "Michigan" was prospering in 
his quest for soup. 

A soldier nurse approached the cot- 
tage and "aunty," who seemed to be on 
good terms with all, interceded for her 
guest. "Dis ya chile done cum down fo 
a wok; he done tiad out, yo' help him 
back, won't yo', massa?" And he did. 




'Dinah, Dinah, look at dat ar po' white chile; he bleached so white as 

linen." 



102 



CHAPTER X. 

A SEQUEL. 

At the age of thirteen, the writer at- 
tended a series of religious meetings 
and became profoundly convicted of his 
obligation to accept Jesus Christ as his 
personal Savior. Lack of moral cour- 
age held him back from an open confes- 
sion. He compromised by secretly 
pledging to become a Christian after he 
had entered upon his chosen profession 
of law. Thereupon his convictions 
ceased and the matter was forgotten. 

Now, in his illness in Andersonville 
prison, answer to prayer, as evidenced 
in the instance of Providence Spring, 
turned his attention to his own moral 
necessities. Well might this introspec- 
tion occur ; for, in this month of August, 
1864, his prospects of surviving the sur- 
rounding conditions were swiftly dimin- 
ishing. Blood poisoning, in the form of 
scurvy, had settled in his face. He tot- 

103 



104 Prison Life in Andersonville 

tered from weakness. His long days and 
weary nights were spent on his blanket, 
spread on the ground, just within the 
little shelter tent that was wedged in 
among others. When eyes were closed 
to awful sights, the ears must listen to 
dreadful sounds. As vitality was ebbing 
away, and the things of time and sense 
were withdrawing, the realities of etern- 
ity seemed to come to the front. Truly 
it was time to " prepare to meet thy 
God." This must be done at once. The 
reading of the little pocket testament 
began anew, and the thought was awak- 
ened to pray for self; when suddenly 
there came to mind the forgotten cove- 
nant of seven years ago, "I will be a 
Christian after I become a lawyer." 

The obvious conclusion was, " Taken 
on your own terms, as you cannot be a 
lawyer, you cannot be a Christian." 
Total physical and mental weakness 
could not cope with this mental sugges- 
tion. The reflections that followed led 
to feelings of utter despair. Thus he 
soliloquized, "In the day of my strength 
I said 'No' to God; now, in the hour of 



A Sequel 105 

my weakness, he will not hear me. He 
knows that from fear and not from sin- 
cerity I now seek to pray. Hypocritical 
prayer will but add insult to injury. I 
must not pray." These confused rea- 
sonings were largely due to an anemic 
brain and mental temptation. The weak- 
ened mind accepted a lie in place of the 
invigorating truth that "now is the day 
of salvation." Eternity seemed to open 
its portals to a realm of darkness into 
which the soul was being forced by the 
stress of its own past decision, while 
high over these gates enthroned in light 
appeared the radiant form of the Son of 
God. While this Personage seemed un- 
speakably lovely and "chief among ten 
thousand," the soliloquizer said, "He 
has been denied, he is lost to me. ' ' These 
cogitations filled the waking and sleep- 
ing hours of several nights. With a 
sense of woe unutterable the decision of 
doom was accepted. The sensations of 
a lost soul seemed to be real. Words are 
entirely inadequate to express the sense 
of eternal, irremediable loss by which 
the heart was oppressed. This exhaus- 



106 Prison Life in Andersonville 

tive strain could not long continue. The 
evening of a day of unusually oppres- 
sive heat presaged the end. Vividly the 
thought stood before the mind, "This is 
my last night on earth." To the com- 
rade who was blanket-mate the home ad- 
dress was given and a whispered good- 
bye. This was the fully accepted close 
of life. 

Sinking into an unrestful slumber, 
the small hours of the morning arrived, 
and a forgotten incident of the long ago 
was revived in a dream. The scene in 
vision occurred on a beautiful Sunday 
morning of spring, eleven years before. 
The location was a village on the old 
Ridge road in Niagara county, New 
York. The region was, and is, noted for 
its orchards of deciduous fruits. On 
this date the blossoms were out in full. 
Banks of pink and white embosomed the 
homesteads that lined the historic high- 
way; sweet odors filled the air, and 
bevies of bees with droning song were 
industriously gathering the abundant 
nectar. Nothing could surpass the 
beauty of that quiet Lord's Day morn- 



A Sequel 107 

ing as the family, consisting of father, 
mother, older sister and younger broth- 
er, with the lad, wended its way to the 
brick church of the village. They habit- 
ually passed, on the outskirts of the 

same, the stone house of Col. N , 

whose daughter's husband was absent in 
the West. 

The good lady taught in the Sunday 
school a class of boys who were from 
seven to ten years of age, and although 
they were possessed of irrepressible 
juvenile energy, and occasionally, to her 
distress, seemed to be irreverent; yet 
they regarded her with sincere respect 
and gave willing obedience. 

On the Saturday night, preceding this 
Sunday morning, a great burden of so- 
licitude for the safety of her husband 
was suddenly pressed in upon her mind. 
To her imagination he seemed to be in 
extreme peril; perhaps he was unat- 
tended ; he might be alone and facing a 
speedy and fatal termination. Possess- 
ing a strong faith in God, and believing 
his readiness to hear and answer prayer, 
at midnight she aroused from her bed 



108 Prison Life in Andersonville 

and engaged in an irrepressible travail 
of soul for the far-away loved one. For 
several hours the burden of intercession 
continued. With the coming of the Sun- 
day morning dawn, the light which made 
all nature bright and beautiful was sud- 
denly duplicated in her heart. All at 
once the burden lifted. Instantaneously 
her being was filled with the sweet as- 
surance that all was well with her hus- 
band ; that whatever was his danger he 
was being saved therefrom. A tender 
gratitude possessed her heart. A sense 
of union with the mighty Jehovah suf- 
fused her being with a consciousness of 
strength and resource. Like Deborah of 
old a song of triumph arose in her soul. 
As the time of going to church ap- 
proached, the above mentioned family 
came along, and, as was their custom, 
the teacher and her son, who was about 
the age of the writer, joined them on the 
way to the sanctuary. As the others 
were conversing by the way, the two 
boys ran on ahead and the one, having 
observed on the face of his teacher the 
marks of suffering, said to his chum, 



A Sequel 109 

" Newton, what is the matter with your 
mamma V 9 

"O, Johnny/ 9 was the reply; "My 
mamma has been feeling awful bad 
about my papa. I guess she thinks he 
is going to die, for in the night I heard 
her talking and talking to God about 
saving him and making him well. Say, 
Johnny, if God don't do what mamma 
asks I won't have any papa, will I?" 

With their hands joined in a common 
sympathy, and with mutual tears, the 
two lads sorrowed for a brief moment. 
But what parental anxiety could hold 
their abounding life from immediate 
sympathy with nature smiling all 
around? By the time the church was 
reached and cheery salutations had been 
exchanged with arriving classmates, all 
impressions of grief were forgotten. 

The teacher, in a mood of chastened 
gladness and confidence, listened to the 
sermon which the venerable pastor ex- 
tended to an unusual length. This de- 
lay absorbed the brief period of time 
usually given to an intermission, dur- 
ing which the intermediates might 



110 Prison Life in Anders onville 

straighten out the kinks which seemed 
to form in their lithe limbs while 
perched on cushioned seats so high that 
their feet dangled short of the carpet. 

The good superintendent, whose gra- 
cious face and form are remembered as 
but of yesterday, called the school to 
order immediately after the benediction 
was pronounced. "We are late," he 
said, "and cannot have intermission to- 
day; classes take their places at once." 

These irrepressible youngsters com- 
bined the movement of filing into the 
pew with motions not included in the 
regular order. One punched another. 
The lad who had recently shared the 
mental distress of his mother now in- 
serted a bent pin under the descending 
form of his companion; resulting in a 
response that did not improve the disci- 
pline of the occasion. The boisterous 
impulse seized the entire class to the 
annoyance and discomfiture of the 
teacher, who was seated at their front in 
the adjoining pew. Several reproving 
glances directed towards the young in- 



A Sequel 111 

surgents quieted them during the open- 
ing exercises. 

After the vigil of prayer during much 
of the preceding night and the answer 
of peace that had been given, we can 
readily understand the state of mind 
which now possessed the teacher. The 
transient, sportive disorder of the little 
boys was but a harmless ripple on the 
surface of her thought. Her soul was 
in a continued attitude of prayer. Her 
victory in intercession made easy a re- 
newal of request at the throne of grace. 
Not only her mother-heart but her 
Christian love yearned over the lads 
that were committed to her care. Not 
the surface question of behavior, but the 
issue of their conversion to Jesus Christ 
took possession of her mind. She 
thought to herself, "Why not now? 
Why not now?" Attracting the atten- 
tion of the lads by tapping on the 
pew-top with her ivory-mounted fan, 
with countenance expressing unwonted 
strength, she said, "My boys, I want you 
to now be perfectly quiet, and to bow 



112 Prison Life in Andersonville 

your heads and close your eyes while I 
pray for you." 

The spirit of quiet firmness which ac- 
companied these words, the outreaching 
of her soul as in the interceding exercise 
of the previous night, profoundly im- 
pressed the lads. Instantly and will- 
ingly, they took the attitude of rever- 
ence ; motionless they listened to the ten- 
der voice that pleaded in words like 
these: "O Lord, my heavenly Father, 
I ask Thee to help my little boys to give 
their hearts to Thee. Wilt Thou not, 
by the sacrifice of thy dear Son, cleanse 
their hearts from sin. Wilt Thou give 
to them a new heart, a clean heart ? Be- 
stow upon them freely of Thy Holy 
Spirit, and help them to live always for 
Thee. Amen." 

Although eleven years had passed 
away, and the immature experiences of 
boyhood had been replaced by the open- 
ing realities of manhood, the events 
above described formed the subject-mat- 
ter of the dream on that memorable 
night in Andersonville. The panorama 
of what was largely forgotten unfolded 



A Sequel 113 

before the mind in what was supposed 
to be the sleep of approaching death. 
These renewed impressions were so 
vivid that at the instant of awaking 
the reality seemed to be with the old- 
time home ; the dream was the being in 
the prison pen. 

But a few moments of consciousness 
were required for the recognition of the 
actual circumstances of the present time 
and place. 

But, within, all was changed. In the 
place of despair an inspiring hope was 
in the ascendant. The forms and voices 
of loved ones had been seen and heard. 
The intercession of the teacher for her 
little boys had restored the right to pray. 
While yet in much physical weakness 
the day was mostly passed in silent 
prayer. 

During the second night a lessened 
impression of the dream was repeated. 
By the second morning all the processes 
of thought were restored to the normal 
condition. The mind and will were able 
to adopt the irreversible determination 
to henceforth implicitly trust in the liv- 



114 Prison Life in Anders onville 

ing God and to live the life of faith and 
prayer. And up to the present hour that 
determination has sought to be unfalter- 
ingly kept. 



"The mystic chord of memory, stretch- 
ing from every battlefield and patriot 
grave to every living heart and hearth- 
stone all over this broad land, will yet 
swell the chorus of the Union, when 
again touched, as surely they will be, by 
better angels of our nature." — Abra- 
ham Lincoln, Inaugural Address, March 
4, 1861. 



115 



APPENDIX A. 

CONTRIBUTORY TESTIMONY. 

Many narratives of experiences in the 
military prisons maintained by the gov- 
ernment of the Confederate States of 
America during the Civil War have been 
written by Union officers and soldiers 
confined therein. With minor differ- 
ences of statement arising from per- 
sonal diversities these testimonies as a 
whole establish the fact of unprece- 
dented suffering and mortality. 

Since the close of the Civil War our 
government has unstintedly employed 
ability and money in compiling and 
publishing an exhaustive exhibit of the 
Union and Confederate records. These 
statistics and memoranda afford to the 
later historian abundant and reliable 
data, and upon his calm verdict we may 
rely for the substantial truth. 

The holding of prisoners during our civil war 
was a matter of large concern. The number of 

116 



Contributory Testimony 117 

Union soldiers captured was 211,411; paroled 
on the field, 16, 669 ; died in captivity, 30,218. 
These last figures are defective. Of twelve Con- 
federate prisons the " death registers" of five 
are only partial and thousands of the emaciated 
men passed away soon after release. 

The number of Confederate soldiers captured 
was 462,635 ; paroled on the field 257,769 ; died 
in captivity 25,976. The percentage of deaths 
among the imprisoned Confederates, it will be 
seen, was far less than among the Union pris- 
oners. 

The number of enlistments in the Union army 
was 2,898, 304; in the Confederate army from 
1,239,000 to 1,400,000. The estimated cost of 
war to the North was $5,000,000,000, and to the 
South $3,000,000,000. 

(The above figures are taken from a 
" History of the United States," by 
James Ford Rhodes, LL.D., Litt.D., 
who quotes from General F. C. Ains- 
worth, Chief of the Record and Pension 
Office.) 



"We raise our father's banner that it may 
bring back better blessings than those of old; 
. . . that it may say to the sword, 'Return to 
thy sheath,' and to the plow and sickle, 'Go 
forth.' That it may heal all jealousies, unite 
all policies, inspire a new national life, com- 
pact our strength, ennoble our national ambi- 
tions, and make this people great and strong, 
not for aggression and quarrelsomeness, but 
for the peace of the world, giving to us the 
glorious prerogative of leading all nations to 
juster laws, to more humane policies, to sin- 
cerer friendship, to rational, instituted civil lib- 
erty, and to universal Christian Brotherhood." 
— Address of H. W. Beecher at Fort Sumpter 
flag raisiing, April 15, 1865. 



118 



APPENDIX B. 

RESPONSIBILITY FOR PRISON TREATMENT. 

It is difficult, even after the lapse of 
years not a few, to consider dispassion- 
ately the treatment accorded by the Con- 
federacy to her prisoners. War had 
fanned to a flame the fire of sectional 
animosity, and a spirit of retaliation was 
awakened. It is true the South was com- 
paratively a poor country, and the hand 
of war had stripped her bare. The 
mighty armies of both sides carried on 
their vast operations on southern soil; 
the one as an army of defense, the other 
as an army of invasion. 

In the movements of strategy and bat- 
tle, many combatants were taken pris- 
oners; these were sent to the rear for 
safe keeping and maintenance. With 
practically unlimited resources this ad- 
ditional burden was scarcely felt at the 
North. 

At the South, the case was different. 

19 



120 Prison Life in Andersonville 

The extended territory occupied by the 
armies was practically unproductive for 
the people. It was, therefore, inevitable 
that the prisoners of war share the gen- 
eral limitation. As their numbers in- 
creased, it was necessary that they be 
conveyed to localities beyond the reach 
of rescue. Their increasing hosts could 
not wait upon the size of the stock- 
ades built for their confinement, and the 
limited forces that could be spared for 
their safe keeping must in some way 
hold them closely in hand. 

Moreover, unfriendly prejudices were 
increasing by the very fact of invasion, 
and as the North was held responsible 
for the war, the prisoners were the ob- 
ject of bitter hatred. In numerous 
minor particulars, such as ample sup- 
ply of water, of shelter and of food and 
fuel, the obligations of the southern mil- 
itary authorities were criminally neg- 
ligent ; yet many of the features of the 
prison circumstances were probably un- 
avoidable. 

The situation in the South is summed 
up in the following extract from "A 



Prison Treatment 121 

History of the American People/ ' by 
Woodrow Wilson, Ph.D., Lit.D., Vol. 
IV, pp. 306, 307: 

"One of the most distressing evidences of 
the straits to which the South had been brought 
was seen in the state of the prisons in which 
she was forced to keep the thousands of pris- 
oners who fell into the hands of her armies. 

"More than two hundred thousand, first and 
last, were taken, and only some sixteen thou- 
sand of these were paroled upon the field. . . . 

"Not until the war seemed turning toward 
its end could an exchange of prisoners be ar- 
ranged. The Federal authorities knew their 
superiority in fighting population and did not 
care to lose by returning fighting men to the 
South. If her soldiers died in Southern pris- 
ons, they were dying for their country there, 
General Grant said, as truly as if they lost their 
lives in battle. 

"In the south men could not be spared from 
the field to guard the prisons; there were not 
guards enough ; there was not food enough ; 
and many thousands were crowded together un- 
der a handful of men. 

"Proper sanitary precautions were, in the 
circumstances, impossible. The armies them- 
selves lacked food and went without every 
comfort, and the prisoners could fare no better 
—inevitably fared worse, because they were 
penned within a narrow space and lacked the 



122 Prison Life in Andersonville 

free air of the camp. A subtle demoralization 
touched the government of the Confederacy it- 
self as the war went its desperate course, and 
those who kept the prisons felt that demoraliza- 
tion with the rest." 

One recollection has burned itself into 
memory. At Andersonville there was a 
standing offer of immediate release to 
any prisoner of average strength who 
would take the oath of allegiance to the 
Confederacy and engage in non-com- 
batant service. Officers who entered the 
prison with these proposals were 
shunned by our men. I recall a recent- 
ly naturalized Federal prisoner who 
thus enlisted. When he re-entered the 
prison in Confederate uniform as a re- 
cruiting officer, his reception was such 
that he fled to the gate for his life; 
shouting to the guard to protect him. 
For flag and country our boys could un- 
complainingly die a lingering death, but 
they could not turn traitor. 



APPENDIX C— WOMAN'S BE- 
LIEF CORPS MEMORIAL 

Among the heroisms of the great Civil 
War none surpassed the self-sacrificing 
devotion manifested by the women of 
the North and of the South. The lat- 
ter are represented by an organization 
known as "The Daughters of the Con- 
federacy," within whose associations 
are kept alive ardent memories of heroic 
days. 

The former have wrought enduring 
deeds of patriotism and of mercy, chief- 
ly in co-operation with the Grand Army 
of the Republic. The work of the 
Woman's Relief Corps in securing and 
improving the Andersonville prison 
grounds constitutes an imperishable 
memorial to their patriotic devotion. 

To the energy and executive ability of 
Mrs. Lizabeth A. Turner, Chairman of 
the Andersonville Prison Board, is due 
in large measure the complete success 

123 



124 Prison Life in Andersonville 

attending the movement to gain posses- 
sion of and to beautify the site and sur- 
roundings of the historic Andersonville 
prison. 

The following letter written two years 
before the decease of Mrs. Turner ex- 
plains in her own vigorous expressions 
how these great results were secured : 
" Woman's Headquarters Relief Corps, 

(Auxiliary to the Grand Army of the 

Republic.) 46 Camp Street, New 

Britain, Conn., October 14, 1905." 

" Rev. John L. Maile. 

Dear Comrade: Some fifteen years 
ago the Department of Georgia, G. A. 
R., considered the idea of buying the 
Andersonville prison pen and holding it 
in memory of the men who there died 
for the preservation of the Union. 

The committee bought all the land the 
owners would release and hoped to raise 
through the Northern posts and their 
friends a permanent fund for the care 
of the grounds. 

The plan proved a failure. The G. 
A. R. in the South is very poor. Its 
members are mostly colored men who 



Woman's Relief Corps 125 

are able to make little more than their 
living. 

On the property was a mortgage of 
about $750, which was paid by the 
Woman's Relief Corps, but money for 
the care of the place was lacking. The 
grounds were then offered to the United 
States Government on the condition of 
providing perpetual care. As Ander- 
sonville is not a battlefield, the authori- 
ties declined the proposition. 

On two occasions a like proposal was 
made to the National G. A. R. Encamp- 
ment, but these veterans decided that 
the time is not far distant when they can 
care only for themselves. 

With better success the responsibility 
was tendered to the Woman's Relief 
Corps, which felt that if there is a place 
on God's earth that should be held sa- 
cred, it is that prison pen. The officials 
accepted the obligation, trusting to 
woman's patriotism for support and 
care, and they have not trusted in vain. 

The adage that "God helps those who 
help themselves" has been true in our 
case. When we accepted the sacred 



126 Prison Life in Anders onville 

trust and looked the ground over, I 
found a large corner of the original pen 
and three forts we did not own. We 
bought the extra grounds and the forts, 
paying for them several hundred dol- 
lars more than they were worth. We 
ventured for all or nothing — and all it 
was. 

This occurred in 1895, and in that 
year I was elected President of the W. 
R. C. At the convention we raised by 
personal contributions $700 as a begin- 
ning. 

During several years each member 
was asked to give from three to five 
cents ; some responding, others refusing. 
Now all bills are paid from the general 
fund of the National organization. 

We own eighty-eight and one-half 
acres of land, including the seven forts ; 
all the earthworks and rifle pits ; also the 
wells dug by the men in trying to reach 
water. These are in as perfect condition 
as when the war closed. 

Not a well has caved in or a fort 
changed in shape. That hard, red clay 
seems as unyielding as stone. 



Woman's Relief Corps 127 

The grounds are inclosed with a high 
wire fence and suitable gates. Roads 
are laid out and bridges built over the 
creek. Bermuda grass roots planted on 
the north side will make an even lawn. 

Grass seed for a sward will not ger- 
minate in that soil. We have built over 
Providence Spring a stone pavilion, 
also a nine-room house, well furnished, 
and after the northern home pattern. 

We also have a barn, a henyard, a 
good mule and all kinds of work tools 
for such a place. 

We engage an old veteran and his 
wife as caretakers. From a pole 116 
feet high floats in the air every day the 
flag those heroes died to save. At our 
last convention we voted to build a wind- 
mill the coming winter. 

Last fall we set our 300 roses and this 
autumn will add 200 more. We have 
also set out 150 four-year-old pecan 
trees that are from 10 to 15 feet high. 
They do finely in that soil and when 
from ten to twelve years old will bear 
a paying crop. A freeze does not affect 



128 Prison Life in Anders onville 

them and they are marketable without 
decaying. 

Ohio, Massachusetts, Rhode Island 
and Michigan have put up beautiful 
monuments in the prison pen. Wiscon- 
sin will have hers ready to dedicate on 
next Memorial Day. 

Pennsylvania, Iowa and Maine have 
placed monuments in the cemetery. All 
this has been done through the work of 
the W. R. C. 

While I believe the prison pen is the. 
only place for the monuments, I am 
thankful to have any State remember 
their Andersonville men wherever they 
think best. 

" Death Before Dishonor' ' is the 
motto on all the monuments within the 
prison grounds. 

Last year we had markers put down 
on all the places of special interest ; also 
on the stockade and dead lines. Trees 
have grown up through the forts forty 
feet high and are more than two feet 
through. 

The W. R. C. has started a fund for 
the perpetual care of the Prison Pen 



Woman's Relief Corps 129 

Park. We began last year and have al- 
ready $3,000 in the fund. The yearly 
income is to be added to the principal, 
and none to be used until the proceeds 
are sufficient to support the place. 

We are to set aside annually not less 
than $1,000 for the increase of the fund, 
besides caring for current expenses. 

You will, I am sure, be much inter- 
ested in the situation. I have been 
Chairman of the Board from the begin- 
ning and hope to live long enough to see 
sufficient money set aside to care for the 
place forever/' 

Yours in F. C. and L., 

LIZABETH A. TURNER, 

Chairman Andersonville Prison Board 
of Control.' ' 

Mrs. Turner served as President of 
the Woman's Relief Corps, Auxiliary 
to the Grand Army of the Republic, and 
was appointed by her compeers as Life 
Chairman of the Andersonville Prison 
Board. Her death occurred at Ander- 
sonville on April 27, 1907. 



130 Prison Life in Andersonville 

A monument suitable to her memory, 
erected by the Woman's Relief Corps, 
adorns the prison grounds for which she 
spared not her life to preserve and beau- 
tify. 

From the Annual Address of Mrs. 
Fanny E. Minot, President of the 
Woman's National Relief Corps, at the 
Twenty-third Annual Convention, 1905 : 

"In March it was my privilege, in 
company with Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Win- 
ans and Mrs. Kate E. Jones, to visit 
Prison Park at Andersonville. As I 
walked through the grounds and read 
and pondered on the suffering there en- 
dured, it seemed, indeed, a hallowed 
spot. Just beyond is the National Cem- 
etery, in whose broad trenches are in- 
terred more soldiers in one group than 
upon any battlefield on the face of the 
globe. A whole army perished rather 
than deny the country which gave them 
birth ! The bravery of the men at Ther- 
mopylae has been the theme of song and 
story ; but they fought in the shadows of 
their soul-inspiring mountains, while 
these men, removed from the activities 



Woman's Relief Corps 131 

of war, the flash of arms, the long array 
of men eager for the contest, dragged 
out a miserable existence till death came 
to their relief. If ever men were loyal, 
true and brave, whose names should be 
inscribed on honor's roll, it was these." 

"Who tasted death at every breath 
And bravely met their martyrdom." 

"How fitting that the magic touch of 
woman should consecrate this prison 
pen and make it a prison park! Only 
patient, persistent effort has made the 
change possible ; for the soil is unrespon- 
sive, and tangled vines and underbrush 
had run riot for many years. But on 
this visit we found the grounds suitably 
inclosed, the Bermuda grass taking root, 
the moats and creek cleared of the vines 
and the conopy erected over that won- 
derful Providence Spring. The house 
erected for the caretaker much exceeded 
my expectations for comfort and con- 
venience. Honeysuckles and roses 
clambered over the porch, and the rose 
garden, planned by Mrs. Turner, gave 



132 Prison Life in Andersonville 

promise of beauty and fragrance where 
formerly had been barrenness and foul 
odors. On these grounds Ohio has raised 
a beautiful granite shaft, Massachusetts 
has placed a substantial monument near 
by, Rhode Island has honored her dead 
in bronze and stone, and last Memorial 
Day the Governor of Michigan came 
with friends to dedicate with appropri- 
ate ceremonies a monument to the brave 
sons of that State. Wisconsin has se- 
lected a site near the spot where some of 
her men encamped ; and other States are 
planning to erect monuments, but wish 
first to be assured that the park will 
have permanent care." 

PLANTING THE FLAG AT AN- 
DERSON VILLE. 

BY MRS. ANNIE WITTENMYER. 

We lift up the banner of freedom today, 
And let the world know that due honor 

we pay 
To liberty's martyrs, who starved for 

the right, 
And crown them with heroes who fell in 

the fight. 



W otnan's Relief Corps 133 

Their chalice of woe was filled up to the 
brim; 

They drank to the dregs with high 

courage and vim, 
Nor faltered, nor wavered, but loyal and 

true, 
Stood firm by their colors, the red, white 

and blue. 



The earth was their pillow, their cover- 
ing the sky ; 

And thousands lay down on the bare 
ground to die ; 

No artist can paint, no pen tell the story 

Of all they endured for love of "Old 
Glory." 

The Lord, in compassion, took note of 
their grief, 

And came, in His majesty, to their re- 
lief; 

He rode on the wind, where swift light- 
nings played, 

And hallowed the ground where the 
prisoners laid. 



134 Prison Life in Anders onville 

They panted with thirst, ere the Pres- 
ence passed by, 

But flashes of glory lit up the dark sky ; 
A thunderbolt fell, with omnipotent 

ring, 
And opened the fountain of Providence 

Spring. 

And peace came at last. Ah ! for thou- 
sands too late ; 

We mourn, as a people, their pitiful 
fate, 

And hold the ground sacred, our care 
and our pride, 

And plant the flag over the place where 
they died. 

But the Nation is saved ! They died not 

in vain ; 
Our people are all reunited again. 
From ocean to ocean — the lakes to the 

sea — 
One country, one people, one flag of the 

free! 



APPENDIX D. 

A MEMORIAL DAY MEDITATION. 

By Rev. H. H. Proctor, D J)., of Atlan- 
ta, 6a., in The Congregationalist of 
May 2, 1905. 

"The thirtieth of May is sacred to 
the nation. With its return the heart of 
the country instinctively turns to those 
eighty-three national cemeteries, mostly 
on Southern soil, where in 194,492 
known and 151,710 unknown graves lie 
346,202 men who fell fighting for the 
flag. And in all the land, fittingly 
enough, there are no spots more beauti- 
ful than these. For their care and im- 
provement the national government 
spends $100,000 a year. 

The cemetery at Andersonville, Ga., 
gains additional interest in view of the 
famous prison connected with it. Of 
these I wish to speak. No one can spend 
a day there, as I did lately, without 
drinking deep of the patriotic spirit. 

135 



136 Prison Life in Andersonville 

The very ground on which you stand 
seems holy, when you think how brave 
men suffered and died there. The very 
air seems charged with their spirit still. 

Some disappointment is felt when 
over one hundred miles south of Atlanta 
you get off at a little station, with a few 
straggling houses here and there. But 
in the distance, a mile away, the nation- 
al flag waving invitingly bids reassur- 
ance. At length you stand at the en- 
trance of the cemetery, entering through 
the strong iron gates of the thick ivy- 
covered brick wall, 12,782 known and 
923 unknown men are buried within. 

Many things at once interest you. 
Walks lead to every part of the grounds. 
Trees, shrubbery and flowers enhance 
the natural beauty of the place. Feath- 
ered songers of the South chant daily 
requiems. Each grave is marked by a 
white marble headstone, on which is gen- 
erally carved the number, rank, name 
and state of the dead soldier. Here and 
there we read the sad inscription, " Un- 
known." The white stones contrasting 
with the fine greensward under the soft 



A Memorial Day Meditation 137 

Southern sky make an impressive scene. 
This is especially true in that part of the 
grounds where stands the splendid mon- 
ument of New Jersey, as shown by the 
accompanying illustration. 

In a convenient place there is located 
an octagonal rostrum, where every Me- 
morial Day gathers a large concourse of 
people to pay homage to the sacred dead. 
After the exercises the most impressive 
act of all follows. Each grave, officers 
or private, white or black, known or un- 
known, is decorated with a miniature 
flag. And what a transformation ! In- 
stead of the monotonous rows of bare 
white stone a field of flags, by the magic 
of loving remembrance, appears ! 

But as impressive as is this cemetery, 
more impressive still to me was the 
prison. It is only a few rods away. Its 
notoriety is universal. Blaine, in his 
memorable speech in Congress, immor- 
talized its more than Siberian horrors. 

Some of the posts of the old stockade 
fence, survivors of that dread prison 
will be interested to know, still stand. 
There, within a space of thirteen acres, 



138 Prison Life in Andersonville 

52,345 men, the very flower of the Re- 
public, were kept in a pen. For thirteen 
months they were exposed in that rude 
stockade to the heat in summer and the 
cold in winter, to blistering sun and 
chilling blasts. From cruelty and ex- 
posure, hunger and thirst, disease and 
dirt, they died like sheep. Every fourth 
man died ! 

The story of " Providence Spring" is 
universally familiar. It proves that 
God is yet with men as of old. The 
water supply for these thousands in that 
small space consisted of but one little 
brook which of course soon became un- 
spaekably foul. In their thirst they 
cried unto God for water. He who hears 
the cry of the raven could not be dumb 
to the prayer of the suffering soldier. It 
was night. Soon the sky was overcast 
with clouds, the lightnings flashed, the 
thunders rolled, and a great rain came 
that night. Next morning a fountain of 
living water sparkled in God's sunshine 
near where the devout soldier had knelt 
in prayer the night before. 

In recognition of God's providential 



A Memorial Day Meditation 139 

gift they christened it " Providence 
Spring." Today a pavilion of stone, 
erected by the Woman's National Relief 
Corps, commemorates the spot. Two 
significant utterances are carved on 
marble tablets in the pavilion. On one 
we read these words: "The prisoner's 
cry of thirst rang up to heaven. God 
heard and with his thunders cleft the 
earth, and poured forth his sweetest 
waters gushing here." Over the foun- 
tain, which has never ceased from that 
day to this, carved in Georgia marble 
are the great words of that great man in 
whose big soul the nation was born 
again : "With charity to all and malice 
toward none." 

As I stood by this spot and looked up 
on the hill I felt a new love of country 
stir within my heart. I could but say in 
my heart I would rather be a plain 
American citizen, though black, than a 
knighted Roman under Caesar. 

As we think of that prison we are 
thankful for the cemetery. The prison 
typifies suffering. The cemetery is the 
symbol of peace. Through that gateway 



140 Prison Life in Andersonville 

of suffering our martyrs entered into 
peace. How typical of the nation! 
Through the crucible of suffering it en- 
tered into peace.' ' 










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APPENDIX B. 

SHALL THE GOVERNMENT CONFER PERMA- 
NENT HONORS ON CONFEDERATE HEROES? 

The magnanimity which dictated the 
terms of surrender at Appomattox was 
typical of the treatment extended by the 
Government of the United States to its 
defeated opponents. Well might this be 
so. The sinews of strength of the 
mighty North had through the four 
years of desperate conflict grown strong 
indeed. 

A Confederate Major General de- 
clared that the veterans of General 
Sherman 's army, pushing their winter 
way through the swamps and rivers of 
the South ; foraging widely for subsist- 
ance and always ready to fight, illus- 
trated a type of soldier that the world 
had not seen since the days of Julius 
Caesar. 

The final parade of the Union army 
along Pennsylvania avenue before the 

141 



142 Prison Life in Anders onville 

President, the Cabinet, prominent Gen- 
erals and notables of other nations, dis- 
played a vast procession of seasoned vet- 
erans whose effectiveness had never 
been surpassed. They were the choice, 
steel-tempered residue of more than two 
millions of citizen soldiery who had en- 
listed to preserve the union of States, 
"one and inseparable," against the folly 
of secession. 

In the plentitude of their invincible 
strength, nursing no lust of power, they 
disbanded to peaceful homes from 
whence they came ; subsiding from their 
regnant military life as the mighty 
storm- waves of the ocean sink away into 
pacific calm. 

Apart from wide-spread personal be- 
reavement the North bore no serious 
scars of war. The perfection of agricul- 
tural machinery enabled rich harvests to 
be gathered in season notwithstanding 
the dearth of farm help which had gone 
to the army. Factories of every kind 
were, with large profits, turning out 
abundantly all sorts of goods. Our com- 
merce with the world was unhindered, 



Confederate Heroes 143 

save by the eccentric raids of the Ala- 
bama; the muscle and brawn of an 
ample labor immigration supplied the 
manual force necessary to national ex- 
pansion; as illustrated in the building 
of the trans-continental railroads. The 
huge war debt instead of being felt as 
an incubus was but a process of turning 
into ready cash the prosperity of the 
future. 

Contrast with this picture the condi- 
tion of the Southern States at the close 
of the four dreadful years. Within a 
goodly portion of her borders the coun- 
try was war-swept and harried by the 
consuming necessities of vast armies of 
both friend and foe; for hungry men 
and beasts on the march and in the fight 
must subsist largely upon the supplies 
which the foragers gather from the ad- 
jacent regions. 

Manufacture, as compared with the 
North, was a neglected art south of 
Mason's and Dixon's line. 

The most extensive and effective naval 
blockade of history hermetically sealed 
nearly every Southern port, thereby 



144 Prison Life in Andersonville 

hopelessly shutting in untold wealth of 
cotton, the returns of which w r ere other- 
wise available to every need. 

No millions of stalwart immigrants 
reinforced Southern industry; on the 
contrary her labor system and property 
tenure in human beings were shattered 
in pieces. 

The flower of her masculine youth 
perished; the prestige of ruling intelli- 
gence, culture and wealth was de- 
throned and, to crown her afflictions al- 
though she knew it not, the South lost 
her best and most powerful friend in 
the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. 

Then followed the agonies of political 
reconstruction and the ignoble invasion 
of carpet-bag adventurers who, in many 
instances, w 7 ere valiant only for pelf. 

Surviving this wide-spread chaos the 
South, for the most part, believed in 
their lawful right of withdrawing from 
the Union. By many of their leading- 
minds this contention had been long 
held, and that conception of government 
doubtless had filtered down through all 



Confederate Heroes 145 

classes of society so far as thought was 
developed on the subject. 

The defense of State rights probably 
was a more powerful incentive to civil 
war than was at first the purpose to de- 
fend slavery. 

The bravery of Southern soldiers has 
never been surpassed. The self-sacri- 
ficing patriotism of Southern women 
reached the high-water mark. 

The vitality and moral force of South- 
ern chivalry was distinguished even in 
the remarkable loyalty of the slaves. 

If the foregoing briefly stated consid- 
erations form a truthful presentation of 
the case, why, it may be asked, may not 
the National Government expand the 
magninimity of President Lincoln and 
General Grant by engaging with Con- 
gress to erect monuments and other 
memorials to heroes of the army and 
navy of the Confederacy? The first 
step towards such procedure has al- 
ready been taken in the form of pro- 
posed legislation at Washington. 

We would not imply that the most 
eminent leaders of the Southern forces 



146 Prison Life in Andersonville 

were personalty unworthy of posthumos 
honor. 

On the contrary it is our privilege to 
bear testimony to the exalted individual 
worth, the consecrated devotion to 
country as they understood the duty, 
and the pre-eminent ability in action 
that characterized the most noted lead- 
ers of the Confederacy. 

Nevertheless their relation to national 
history is determined, not by individual 
excellencies, but by the fact that they 
rebelled against the Government they 
were sworn to defend. To the utmost 
they did all they could to dismember the 
Union of which they were an integral 
part, to dishonor the flag that embla- 
zoned the glory of a common origin and 
history. 

In the interest of perpetuating a far- 
reaching sentiment of loyalty to na- 
tional life and well-being we would 
strenuously deny the moral right of 
Congress to make appropriations for 
the erection of memorials that are de- 
signed to crown Confederate valor with 
renown. If by private subscriptions 



Confederate Heroes 147 

admirers wish to build monuments they 
undoubtedly will be allowed to do so. 

Our Government has wisely extended 
high courtesies to prominent Southern 
Generals, and has on many occasions 
held out the olive branch of peace. But 
we must not forget that brotherly kind- 
ness and neighborly good-will cannot 
cancel the fact that the Southern con- 
ception of government by state rights, 
as against National sovereignty, meant 
the destruction of the Nation as such 
and was so intended. 

Had the war for the Union been a 
failure this fair continent on which has 
been nourished the hopes of the world 
would have been the arena of two gen- 
eral governments separated by no natu- 
ral dividing lines and probably at last to 
be succeeded by contending states and 
communities. 

Thus the last condition of free civili- 
zation in America would have been more 
disgraceful than was the situation of 
the warring principalities of ancient 
Greece, because we had sinned against 
a greater light than they possessed. 



148 Prison Life in Andersonville 

If National monuments are dedicated 
to commemorate Southern gallantry 
will not a subtle influence steadily flow 
out from these reminders of civil war 
to the effect that assault upon the 
Nation 's existence is an offense so trivial 
as to be expiated by bravery on the field 
of battle? 

Who can tell what crises of peril may 
in the future break in upon our beloved 
land? And what if the youth of the 
North and of the South are, from gen- 
eration to generation, taught by the in- 
fluence of public memorials that there 
is no real distinction between those who 
fought to save the Nation and those who 
did all they could "that the government 
of the people, by the people, and for the 
people, shall (not) perish from the 
earth." 

We present a quotation from the 
judgment of the Supreme Court, as 
given by General N. P. Chipman on 
page 503 of his recent and informing 
book on Andersonville : 

"The rebellion out of which the war grew 
was without any legal sanction. In the eye of 



Confederate Heroes 149 

the law it had the same properties as if it had 
been the insurrection of a country or smaller 
municipal territory as against the State to 
which it belonged. The proportion and dura- 
tion of the struggle did not affect its character. 
Nor was there a rebel government de facto in 
such a sense as to give any legal efficiency to 
its acts. . . . The Union of the States, for all 
the purposes of the constitution, is as perfect 
and indissoluble as the union of the integral 
parts of the States themselves; and nothing but 
revolutionary violence can in either case de- 
stroy the ties which hold the parties together. 
"For the sake of humanity certain belliger- 
ant rights were conceded to the insurgents in 
arms. But the recognition did not extend to 
the pretended government of the Confederacy. 
. . . The Rebellion was simply an armed resist- 
ence of the rightful authority of the sovereign. 
Such was its character, its rise, progress and 
downfall. ' ' 

The legal aspects of the case as thus 
expressed have their great value as in- 
dicating facts fundamental to organic 
National existence and they demon- 
strate the inherent inconsistency of de- 
voting Federal appropriations to the 
erection of monuments to the honor of 
opponents of the Union. This can be 
but a transient purpose which should 



150 Prison Life in Anders onville 

and, we believe will be, relinquished. 

We close this narrative with the 
words of a departed soldier who was a 
devoted friend of General Lee and after- 
wards a trusted counsellor of General 
Grant, as recorded in the Memoirs of 
Gen. John B. Gordon, pp. 464, 465 : 

"American youth in all sections 
should be taught to hold in perpetual 
remembrance all that was great and 
good on both sides; to comprehend the 
inherited convictions for which saintly 
women suffered and patriotic men died ; 
to recognize the unparalleled carnage as 
proof of unrivalled courage; to appre- 
ciate the singular absence of personal 
animosity and the frequent manifesta- 
tion between those brave antagonists of 
a good-fellowship such as had never be- 
fore been witnessed between hostile 
armies. It will be a glorious day for 
our country when all the children within 
its borders shall learn that the four 
years of fratricidal war between the 
North and the South was waged by 
neither with criminal or unworthy in- 
tent, but by both to protect what they 



Confederate Heroes 151 

conceived to be threatened rights and 
imperiled liberty ; that the issues which 
divided the sections ivere born when the 
Republic was born, and were forever 
buried in an ocean of fraternal blood. 
We shall then see that, under God's 
providence, every sheet of flame from 
the blazing rifles of the contending 
armies, every whizzing shell that tore 
through the forests at Shiloh and Chan- 
cellorsville, every cannon-shot that 
shook Chickamauga 's hills or thundered 
around the heights of Gettysburg, and 
all the blood and the tears that were 
shed are yet to become contributions for 
the upbuilding of American manhood 
and for the future defense of American 
freedom. The Christian Church re- 
ceived its baptism of pentecostal power 
as it emerged from the shadows of Cal- 
vary, and went forth to its world-wide 
work with greater unity and a diviner 
purpose. So the Republic, rising from 
its baptism of blood with a national life 
more robust, a national union more com- 
plete, and a national influence ever 



152 Prison Life in Andersonville 

widening, shall go forever forward in 
its benign mission to humanity." 

From the oldest to the youngest, let 
us all unite in the patriotic salutation, 
"I pledge my allegiance to my flag 
and to the Republic for which it stands. 
One Nation indivisible, with Liberty 
and Justice for all. ' ' 




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